Façade
by Emconn
Summary: [Facade: an outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant or creditable reality] Nothing is as simple as it seems. Even more-so for Sherlock's female companion. She hides a secret that only the Holmes boys know about. Will it cause problems as Sherlock's cases become more intricately connected to a criminal network?
1. Beginnings

A young man with raven colored hair sat quietly at a table in the large library, alone. Despite it being his first year in undergrad he was already known throughout the university as a loner and more often a freak. His reputation was due to his 'party trick' as most of his peers called it. Analyzing people and deducing them was something he tended to do when in the presence of others and as a result he made many enemies.

The library was one of the few places where he could escape all the whispers and work in peace without all the idiotic people surrounding him. Shutting his notebook, he his closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, forming a temple with his fingers, searching through his mind palace. At the present moment he was involved in a case as it were. A plague of thefts had been going around campus and a fellow classmate approached him about finding the perpetrator after some more valuable items had been stolen. They didn't like him but they respected his insight enough to ask for help; which pleased his growing ego.

It had been recent that he had truly begun utilizing his skills of deduction. Many people saw but didn't observe, and that is where he came in. Once he had picked out the thief; the small ginger boy who sat in the far left corner of his chemistry class, third row down, 7th spot; he slowly opened his eyes and was met with an odd sight. Quirking his brow he stared silently at the bright-eyed girl before him, staring right back with her grey orbs. Glancing over her form he quickly deduced everything he needed to know.

**-Tall about 5'8". **

**-Athletic build maybe from a rigorous elective activity. **

**-Not on a sports team here, not specific enough muscle definition. **

**-Staring quietly, waiting for me to initiate the conversation….she wants something. **

**-Eyes looking directly at me, blinking to draw attention to them so I can notice the expectant look on her face. **

**-Probably a friend of Sebastian again, wanting** **me to perform my 'party trick'. **

Realizing this was probably another lackey of the man who headed up the taunting, he instantly glowered at the blonde before him. Actually, now that he noticed, it was a very warm colored blonde with hints of red highlights to bring out more of an undertone of red. So a more strawberry blonde as others would label it…but that wasn't the point.

"No" he deadpanned, putting away his things to leave. The girl's lips quirked, her eyes alight with amusement. Glancing at her he nearly did a double take. At first glimpse those eyes held innocence and warmth. But at a second look revealed an underlying iciness to her gaze. Something….almost dangerous…..This threw him off a little but he didn't show it. He filed that little snippet away for later.

"I haven't said anything." She pointed out, the melodic alto of her voice catching his attention for a second longer than usual. Another thing he mentally filed away. Interesting.

"You are a friend of Sebastian correct? Here to see if I can tell you your life story? Don't bother." He dismissed, his eyes staring at her coldly.

"That isn't at all what I'm here for." She corrected still watching him put his belongings into his bag hurriedly. The man paused, a curl falling into his face as he was hunched over to put his books away. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Might as well humor her for a moment, it could prove to be amusing.

"Then what pray tell are you doing here?" he asked boredly. The girl didn't react to his cold demeanor in the way most did. She smiled, as if finding it funny.

"You fascinate me." She told him, a soft smile remaining on her face. He stared at her blankly. That wasn't what he expected. The way she had said it wasn't in a mocking or negative tone, which he usually received. It was genuine. She really found him interesting in a positive way.

"Why?" he asked lowly, his baritone filled with warning that she had one chance to maintain his attention.

"I like the way your mind works" She elaborated, smiling inwardly at the minute widening of his eyes. She had caught his interest.

"How would you know how my mind works?" he drawled glancing at her in disinterest.

"I think I would understand you better than you think. You see things like everyone else yet there is something more. You see more than most." She explained, her eyes roaming over his posture. He narrowed his blue-green eyes at her. She saw things too, he realized. Not at the capacity that he did, obviously, but the spark was there. His interest was further piqued at the possibility of another intelligent mind.

"You know Oscar Wilde once wrote that 'there are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating: people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing.' I believe you are the former and I want you to teach me." She added in his silence. He blinked, still silent. For once in his life he was unsure of how to respond. He didn't get flattery or compliments very often…..he kinda liked it.

"Teach you what?" he asked slowly, still hesitant around this girl who he couldn't fully figure out. Sure, he could deduce her to a point but she continued to spout out stuff that was 'out of character' or so he assumed. Why go any deeper into her background when the present was so delightfully contradictive? He couldn't read her mind and it was irritating yet intriguing, not knowing how she would react or say.

"Teach me to observe." She pressed, now leaning slightly on the table. The boy scrutinized her for what seemed to be the umpteenth time in the past few minutes.

"Not everyone can do that, it takes a superior mind." He boasted smugly. She grinned in a challenging manor.

"I believe you will find that I am up to the challenge. And perhaps I can offer you something in return." He pursed his lips, doubtful that she could accomplish such a feat.

"And what would you offer? Something a bit more substantial than being physically intimate I assume." He responded icily. He wasn't as susceptible to such offers as other men tended to be. So simplistic.

"I'm a psychology major. Add that to your chemistry, forensics, and….skills of observation, you could make yourself quite a name in the investigative field." She suggested. He frowned.

"I never told you what I was studying nor what I was considering for a career." He pointed out, curious as to how she knew that. He wasn't fond of the idea of a stalker. The girl pointed to his bag that had made its way to the table during the conversation.

"Your books. You have multiple that would be used in those two classes. Additionally, you don't strike me as the type to take interest in theoretical thought, so something a bit more concrete and fact filled like science was an obvious choice of study. The investigative field was a lucky guess. It seems I was right as you have yet to correct me. Most people are reluctant to tell you things but they love to correct you." She hummed in explanation. Blue-green eyes glanced at his closed bag. Thinking back on his actions during the conversation he distinctly remembered her eyes were on him for most of the time. Allowing no longer than a second to glance at his books. She had to have read them quickly and upside down in the span of that time and used that glimpse to logically deduce his classes.

"Photographic memory?" he inquired, quirking his lips ever so slightly.

"Naturally." She hummed, waiting for him to come to a decision. Slowly but surely, she was continuing to hold his attention while to proving herself to maybe…possibly…be useful to him. Maybe he could teach her as she seemed to be more intelligent than she let on.

"Perhaps. I will admit that you have my interest….for the moment. I shall attempt to teach you but should you prove to be an inadequate student or you start to annoy me we shall terminate this agreement." He told her decidedly, not letting the hard expression fall from his features. She smirked, starting to realize that he was just like this all the time. She could handle that. With a nod she stuck her hand out politely.

"Adara Corrigan." She introduced herself. The man eyed her hand before briefly shaking it with his own.

"Sherlock Holmes." Adara grinned before swiftly standing, gesturing for him to join. Once he had stood, the duo began walking alongside one another.

"Sherlock, I believe this will be the start of a beautiful friendship." She chirped, keeping her eyes forward as they navigated deeper into the library. Sherlock scowled.

"I don't have friends." He countered.

"Not yet." She quipped, sending him a pointed side glance. He didn't correct her.

...

...

"She's sleeping with a professor."

"Now you're just making that up."

"You know I'm not."

"How can you tell? I mean yes she's a bit of a skank but I wouldn't go that far to say she was sleeping with a professor." Adara questioned, with an amused grin. She and Sherlock had claimed a spot under a secluded tree where they had a large view of the quad. He had been working on her observational skills and they would use their free periods to practice. Currently they were deducing a classmate of Adara's. One that drove her up the walls, so she had no qualms about digging up dirt on her.

Sherlock chuckled at her curiosity. A genuine chuckle, not those he threw about in the company of the general public.

"Would you like me to start small? Or do you want the most obvious facts?" he inquired smugly. Adara rolled her eyes, groaning at how arrogant he was.

"Fine start with the obvious things. I need to get those cues down first." She relented, ready to absorb whatever he said. He eyed her with….dare he admit it….fondness. Over the past month she had begun to grow on him. As she claimed, Adara was very interested in learning from him and soaked up what he had to say like a sponge. It was odd for him to actually have someone who wanted to listen to his ramblings. He shifted closer to her, leaning to murmur in her ear.

"Well just to name a few things….her normally immaculate hair is a few strands out of place; along with it being parted on the other side now. Her skirt has shifted a centimeter higher on the left side. On the back there is still a crease, where she was apparently up against the desk. Shall I go on?" he rattled off, Adara's eyes scanning over the girls form and finding what he had seen. She pursed her lips in frustration.

"No, I get it." She muttered sourly. Sherlock quirked his lips.

"Alright then, how about you tell me which professor it is?" Sherlock suggested. Slowly but surely, she was starting to learn but was nowhere near where he was yet. Normally he would have kicked her to the curb by now but she just kept him hooked. Her unpredictably was addicting for him and he couldn't rid himself of her even if he tried. Adara nodded and began scanning the quad.

"Would I be right to assume that they are nearby?" she asked. Sherlock nodded minutely. Her grey eyes continued perusing through the faculty members. As her eyes went over a group of men, Sherlock scoffed.

"No." he immediately shot down. Adara grunted in displeasure and continued looking. She frowned not finding anyone who was matching the profile she had formed in her head. Sherlock pressed his lips close to her ear once more and she became very aware of his proximity.

"You see it but you don't observe. Don't stick with the mainstream ideas. Think outside the box, exclude nothing." He advised her. Adara cleared her throat, resisting the instinct to lean in closer to his form. Focusing her mind, she looked over the faculty again. Her eyes landed on someone she wouldn't normal pick out. But now that she truly 'saw it', there couldn't be any other explanation. Adara gasped, her mouth dropping in shock. Sherlock grinned, knowing she had figured it out.

"Mrs. Chimiski?" she inquired, turning to him with a grin. Sherlock's breathing hitched as he was sucked into those soulful eyes once again. Both of their cheeks tinged a faint shade of pink, but it was ignored by both parties.

"Obviously. She and her husband have been having issues for the past few months. Little does she know that her husband is sleeping with her brother." He informed her with a smug grin. Adara let out a short laugh, before covering it up. Talk about a twist. Sherlock chuckled at her reaction and shifted to lean on his arm, incidentally allowing his bicep to brush up against her back. Adara said nothing to deter him. She grinned over at him, excitement flashing across her features. Sherlock's chest warmed at getting her to smile.

"Let's do another one." She pleaded. Sherlock tilted his head in agreement and began looking around the yard, eager to appease her wishes.

...

...

...

**I do not own the BBC series Sherlock, and therefore don't own the story line or the characters outside of my original ones. **


	2. Study in Pink

Lights of cameras flashed as local police held a press conference regarding the recent string of suicides that had been going on around London.

"Preliminary investigations suggest that this was a suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles the pattern regarding sir Jeffery Patterson, and James Philimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being linked." Sally Donovan, a dark skinned policewoman, read off for the press. Beside her sat a man who was obviously uncomfortable being there, with so many unanswered questions that this case held.

"The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now." She concluded, gesturing to her colleague. Instantly a flurry of murmurs was heard as reporters vied for the Inspector's attention. Lestrade picked out one man from the crowd to ask the first question.

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" he asked.

"Well they all took the same poison. Um…they were all found in places they have no reason to be. None of them had shown any prior indication that…"

"..but you can't have serial suicides." The reporter cut him off.

"Well apparently you can." Lestrade countered.

"These three people, there's nothing that links them?" another man inquired.

"There's nothing to be found yet but….we're looking for it. There has to be one." Lestrade defended, fidgeting uncomfortably as he answered. It wasn't good that they couldn't really give reasons for their speculations. And he had to agree that the idea of serial suicides was a bit hard to wrap your brain around, but that was the best he could explain it. A series of chimes and ringtones went off throughout crowd and everyone, including the two at the podium, looked down at their phones. A singular text was sent to every one of them. Just one word.

**Wrong!**

Sally stared at her phone in alarm and quickly set it aside.

"If you've all got texts, ignore them." She insisted.

"It's just says wrong." A man pointed out, confused as to how that happened and what It meant.

"Yea well just ignore that." Sally told him again.

"If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade I'm going to bring this session to an end." she told the group, hoping to get out before any more texts could be sent out.

"If they're suicides what are you investigating?" another journalist asked.

"As I said, these suicides are clearly linked. That's…it..it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating." He reiterated. Another wave of ringtones went off.

**Wrong!**

"It says wrong again." A man piped up. Lestrade looked over at Sergeant Donovan tensely. Before she couldn't continue another text came through. Sally inwardly snarled.

** Couldn't be any more wrong…..**

"One more question." she announced, cutting off the inevitable comments about this recent text.

"Is there any chance that these are murders? And if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" a woman inquired.

"I know you like writing about those but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference." Lestrade assured, lacing his fingers together on the table.

"The poison was clearly self-administered." he pointed out once more.

"Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?" she continued, pressing the murder angle.

"Well don't commit suicide." Lestrade quipped tightly. Sally muttered a warning under her breath. He sighed and backtracked, trying to give them something substantial.

"Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all that they have to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we wanna to be." He recited diplomatically. A wave of ringtones was heard once again with the same message of 'wrong'. Lestrade looked at his phone where a more specific message appeared.

** You know where to find me.- SH**.

He sighed, pocketing his phone and nodded to the group.

"Thank you." He muttered before standing to make his leave.

...

Marching back into the offices Sally scurried after her boss.

"You've got to stop them from doing that, it's making us look like idiots." She commented irritably.

"Well if you can tell me how he does it, I'll stop it." He quipped in his gravelly voice. Sally pursed her lips.

"Then get her to do something about it. He'll listen to her." She suggested with a snarl. Lestrade scoffed.

"Yea like that's gonna happen."

...

...

Over at Saint Barts hospital Sherlock Holmes opened up a body bag. He stared down at the corpse and sniffed lightly.

"How fresh?" he inquired looking over at the mortician.

"Just in. 67, died of natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him, he was nice." A timid woman by the name of Molly Hooper explained. Sherlock zipped the bag back up, turning to Adara.

"Fine, we'll start with the riding crop." He decided, sending her a small grin. She nodded and turned to the table, handing him the crop. Adara gently touched his arm, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I'm going for some coffee. Be back in a bit. Have fun." She hummed. Sherlock smirked at her, watching her go with a small quirk of his lips. He quickly loosened up his shoulders before turning to his experiment.

For the next few minutes Molly stood behind in the observation area as Sherlock mercilessly beat the dead body with a riding crop. Once he seemed to be tiring she made her way in, wincing with each blow. Sherlock panted as he stood back up, a bit winded from all the exertion.

"So, bad day was it?" Molly joked, nervously grinning at him.

"I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes, a man's alibi depends on it. Text me." He quickly told her, jotting down a few notes in his little notepad.

"Listen I was wondering…maybe later…when you're finished.." Sherlock glanced at her as she stammered, taking a double take.

"Are you wearing lipstick?" he asked, taking notice of the change.

"You weren't wearing lipstick before." He muttered, confused as to why she would put some on in the middle of the day.

"I uh..I refreshed it a bit." She chuckled nervously. Sherlock nodded, eying her curiously.

"Sorry you were saying?" he asked, getting back to his notes.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee." She blurted out, more confidently than her last attempt.

"Black, 2 sugars please. I'll be upstairs." He quickly ordered, not noticing her expression. As he promptly left, she deflated before shuffling off to do just that.

...

In the lab Sherlock leaned over as he pipetted a liquid onto a dish at his work station. A soft knock sounded before Mike Stamford and another gentleman walked in. Sherlock took a moment to eye them before going back to his work.

"Well a bit different from our day." The other man mused, glancing around at all the instruments in the lab.

"Mike can I borrow your phone, there's no signal on mine." Sherlock interrupted, not looking up from the microscope.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike asked him.

"I prefer to text." Sherlock told him.

"Sorry it's in my coat." Mike told him, gesturing upstairs.

"Um here. Use mine." John offered, pulling out his cell. Sherlock stared at him curiously.

"Oh, thank you." He stood to grab the phone offered to him.

"This is an old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike informed Sherlock gesturing to his guest. As Sherlock took the phone he glanced over John once more.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he inquired, typing away on the mobile. John frowned, looking to Mike who was smirking. He tilted his head and looked to Sherlock.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, quietly.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock asked again, looking to John with his piercing blue-green eyes. John blinked, still caught off guard at the unusual question.

"Afghanistan…so how did you?.." John began but Sherlock cut him off as Molly entered the lab.

"Ah Molly." He greeted, returning John's phone to him. He smiled politely as she handed him his cup of coffee.

"What happened to the lipstick?" he inquired.

"It wasn't working for me." She murmured quietly, a bit embarrassed in the roomful of others.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth is too…small now." He pursed his lips and returned to his lab space, sipping on the coffee. Sherlock grimaced, swallowing the first mouthful the bitter liquid. Molly muttered an awkward 'ok' before scurrying off.

Just as Molly was walking out, another woman made her way in, catching the men's attention. A tall, slender woman with strawberry blonde hair glided into the room, two cups of coffee in her hands. John's eyes widened with interest as she smiled at him politely. His eyes followed her as she strode past him, towards the dark-haired man. Sherlock smiled softly at her, taking the cup she offered him. He took a quick sip, humming as the taste met his preference as usual.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock inquired, setting down the cup. John glanced around in confusion. Molly had left, the new woman was looking over his shoulder, and Mike made no motion to respond. John concluded that the strange man must be referring to him.

"I'm sorry what?" he asked, caught off guard with the questions.

"I like to play the violin when I'm thinking. And sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Will that bother you?" Sherlock continued, looking to John. John stared at him in utter confusion.

"Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other." The blonde supplied as explanation. The man shot John a thin smile that took over most of his face, his eyes squinting. John stared at them, bewildered.

"Are you…you told him about me?" John assumed looking to Mike in confusion. Mike shook his head in denial.

"Not a word." He assured, sitting there quietly.

"Then who said anything about flat mates?" John asked, shifting in his spot.

"I did, I told Mike just this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Now here he is just back from lunch with an old friend, who recently just returned from a tour in Afghanistan." Sherlock quickly explained, slipping on his coat and wrapping up in his blue scarf.

"Not a difficult leap." He muttered as an afterthought, looking to Adara who smiled in amusement.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked, not sure how he felt about all this.

"I've got my eye on this quiet little place in the center of London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. Meet there tomorrow morning at 7 o'clock. Sorry I've got to dash, and I forgot my riding crop in the mortuary." Sherlock dismissed, whisking on past the befuddled man.

"Is that it?" Dr. Watson asked, just before Sherlock made it to the door.

"Is that what?" the taller man sighed. He came back and stood before John Watson.

"We've only just met and now were moving into a flat." John pointed out. Sherlock frowned and glanced between the people in the room.

"Problem?" he asked. John ran his tongue over his teeth.

"We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name." John told him tightly. Sherlock's lip quirked in bemusement.

"I know that you're an army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know that you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him. Probably because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your limp's psychosomatic.."

"..Quite correctly I'm afraid." Adara cut in, smiling at John sympathetically. Sherlock nodded in agreement while John cleared his throat uncomfortable being stuck between two people who were analyzing him.

"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Sherlock rattled off, finishing with a smug grin. John shifted uncomfortably, not liking the feeling of having his life so exposed before a couple of strangers. Sherlock opened the door and turned to Dr. Watson who was still in silent shock.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He concluded, shooting him a wink and a cheek click.

"Afternoon." He nodded to Mike before dashing off. Mike raised his hand in farewell. John blinked owlishly. In his silence Adara made her way over to face him and stuck out her hand, with a charming smile.

"Adara Corrigan, pleasure to meet you. I apologize for Sherlock, he's always like that." John nodded dumbly, his mind trying to cope between the abrupt change in demeanor of the room.

"See you around Mike." She waved, swiftly opening the doors and walking out. John looked back at the closed door where they two had walked out, one thought rattling around in his brain…..What had just happened?

...

...

The next morning at Baker street, John hobbled over towards the large black door reading 221B on it. He reached over and knocked on the door. Behind him a black cab pulled up.

"Hello" Sherlock greeted, hopping out of the cab and turning to hold the door open for Adara to slip out. She smiled at him, her mouth twisted into more of a smirk. Sherlock quirked his lips before shutting the door and reaching through the window to pay the cabbie.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes" John greeted, reaching out to shake his hand.

"Sherlock, please" John nodded, turning to grasp Adara's hand.

"Miss Adara." He greeted with a wide grin.

"Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive" John commented, glancing around.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal. Owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out." Sherlock shrugged it off, leaning against the steel railing behind him as they waited.

"Sorry, you stopped her husband from being executed?" John inquired.

"Oh no…I ensured it." The detective grinned and John frowned in confusion. Before he could comment the door opened to reveal an older lady sporting a deep plum colored dress.

"Sherlock, hello" she greeted warmly. Sherlock smiled, stepping in for a quick hug. The woman released him and turned to face Adara with a wide grin.

"My, dear. It's so nice to see you again Adara. Keeping this one in line?" she greeted, bringing the younger woman into a hug also. Sherlock rolled his eyes at her comment.

"I don't need a babysitter Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock drawled. Both women looked at him in amusement.

"Oh of course not." Adara smirked, sharing a wink with Mrs. Hudson. John watched them with interest, wondering what the connection was between Adara and Sherlock.

"Mrs. Hudson, Doctor John Watson." Sherlock introduced, gesturing to the man beside him.

"Hello, come in." she ushered, opening the door wider for them. John nodded in thanks as he made his way inside.

"Shall we?" Sherlock gestured for Adara to go ahead of him. She grinned, leaning over to press a quick peck to his cheek before stepping inside. His lips quirked up proudly. Shutting the door behind him, Sherlock swiftly bounded up the stairs to the next landing up and turned, waiting for John to catch up. John frowned at his lack of mobility, but carried on slowly up the stairs. Once he made it to the landing Sherlock nodded and opened the door, leading the way inside. John nodded his eyes glancing over the cluttered living area.

"Well this could be very nice. Very nice indeed." He mused, stepping over to look into the attached kitchen.

"Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely." Sherlock agreed, smiling at it. Adara made her way in, after visiting with Mrs. Hudson for a moment downstairs. She watched them quietly, slipping off her coat and lying it on the arm of the couch.

"So I went straight ahead and moved in."

"Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out…oh." They both pause in embarrassment as their sentences overlapped. Adara covered hid her grin behind her hand.

"So this is all.."

"Well, obviously I can, um….straighten things up a bit." Sherlock muttered, rushing over to toss some files out of the way while John tried to salvage the situation.

"I told you it was cluttered." Adara quipped, watching Sherlock flutter about. Sherlock glared at her halfheartedly before continuing his 'tidying'. John watched as Sherlock picked up some unopened letters frowning at them. John's eyes widened in surprise as Adara slipped a rather large knife out of her boot, casually handing it to Sherlock. The man grinned before stabbing the mail abruptly, pinning it to the mantle. John glanced away, figuring it was better not to ask. As he glanced around, another object on the mantle caught his eye.

"That's a skull." John pointed at it with his cane, looking to Sherlock curiously.

"Friend of mine. When I say 'friend'.." he answered quietly, trailing off.

"What do you think then, Doctor Watson?" Mrs. Hudson asked politely. Sherlock took the time to shed off his overcoat and scarf, setting them down on the desk chair.

"There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms." The landlady elaborated, glancing him over critically, pursing her lips.

"Of course we'll be needing two." John told her pointedly, blinking in confusion at her obvious assumptions.

"Oh don't worry; there's all sorts around here. Mrs. Turner next door has got married ones." She assured him, whispering in a gossipy tone. John's eyes widened in disbelief and he turned to Sherlock for help but the man was obviously preoccupied with something else, ignoring their conversation. John rolled his eyes and looked around for Adara as she would be a good one to clarify for the landlady. However, the words died on his lips as he became immensely distracted. Adara was bent over, putting away some of Sherlock's boxes and sorting through them. The fitted jeans, paired with the sweater she wore accented her curves beautifully and John tilted his head, subconsciously following her movements. A loud clearing of a throat knocked John out of his daze. His eyes shot upwards and he was met with an icy glare. Quickly glancing away, John made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs.

"Oh, Sherlock. The mess you've made." Mrs. Hudson lightly scolded, scuttling to the kitchen where the counter tops were filled with various lab equipment and boxes. Meanwhile, John sat silently watching Sherlock assist Adara as she tidied up his mess. He smiled in amusement at how fluid the duo moved around one another. Sherlock would scan document before tossing them in a general direction, while Adara went behind and picked up the papers before placing them neatly in a more designated area. It was as if they had been doing this for years.

"I looked you up on the internet last night" John commented. Sherlock turned to him with interest.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, innocently.

"Found your website, the Science of Deduction."

"What did you think?" Sherlock inquired waiting for the raving review. However, he didn't get that as John shot him a skeptical stare. Sherlock's smug grin morphed into an incredulous frown.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?" John pointed out, his voice hinting that he didn't believe it.

"Yes, and I can read your military career in your face and your leg. And your brother's drinking habits by your mobile phone." Sherlock added easily.

"How?" Sherlock's lips quirked but he said nothing, standing there with his hands in his pockets.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same." Mrs. Hudson cut in, reading over the paper.

"Four." Adara corrected. Sherlock perked up at her voice and quickly made his way over to the window where she was staring. He leaned over her head, setting his hands on her shoulders as he caught sight of the police car down on the curb.

"There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time." Sherlock commented. He whipped around to see Lestrade bounding up the stairs towards their flat.

"Where?" he immediately asked.

"Brixton, Lauriston gardens."

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different." Sherlock continued.

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?" Sherlock nodded absently, his mind buzzing at the prospect of a new case.

"Who's on forensics?" he asked warily. Lestrade sent him a look, and Sherlock knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"It's Anderson isn't it?" Adara asked with a sneer. Lestrade nodded with a wry grin. Sherlock grimaced in distaste.

"Anderson won't work with me." He muttered.

"Well, he won't be your assistant." Lestrade tried to placate.

"I need an assistant." Sherlock pointed out.

"What about Adara? She's sharp." Lestrade gestured to the woman who glared at him.

"I'm not his assistant."

"She's not my assistant." They both instantly corrected. Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"Fine she's your partner or whatever. Regardless, will you come?" he asked again, desperately.

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind." Sherlock quickly told him, acting nonchalant. Lestrade pursed his lips and looked to Adara. She smiled sympathetically.

"Don't worry we'll be there shortly." She assured. Lestrade grinned.

"Thank you." He nodded before striding back out of the apartment. John glanced around wondering what that was all about.

The moment the door closed downstairs, Sherlock's grin started to break through. He beamed, leaping into the air excitedly.

"Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas!" he gushed excitedly, grabbing his coat and scarf from Adara who held them out knowingly.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food." Sherlock told her, swing his coat on. Adara reached up to hold him still while she fixed his lapels. Sherlock grinned down at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm your landlady dear, not your housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson kindly pointed out.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea. Make yourself at him. Don't wait up!" Sherlock ignored her before dashing out the door. Already having her own coat on, Adara picked up John's from where it was hanging and quietly walked it over to him. She calmly set it on the arm of the chair, John looking up at her curiously.

"I think you'll be needing this in a moment." she smiled at him, a devious glint in her dark grey irises. John frowned but before he could comment she had disappeared after Sherlock.

"Look at him, dashing about. My husband was the same." The older lady mused. John sat there silently, and a bit uncomfortably.

"But your more the sitting down type, I can tell." She added, watching him thoughtfully. John clenched his jaw.

"I'll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John instantly snapped, before quickly apologizing for his abrupt outburst.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing…" he smiled sardonically, tapping his cane on the bum leg.

"I understand dear, I've got a hip." She smiled kindly, heading back into the kitchen.

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you." John told her, opening up the newspaper on the arm of his chair that sat beside his coat.

"Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper."

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em."

"Not your housekeeper" Mrs. Hudson reiterated sternly. John paid her no mind as he scanned over the news. A picture of detective Lestrade beside the recent suicide article caught his attention. That had been the man asking Sherlock for help.

"You're a doctor. In fact, you're an army doctor." Sherlock drawled thoughtfully, reappearing in the doorway.

"Yes." John cleared his throat, standing up.

"Any good?" Sherlock inquired innocently.

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries then. Violent deaths." The man continued, strolling towards him.

"Mm, yes."

"Bit of trouble too I bet."

"Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." The two men stared at one another.

"Wanna see some more?"

"Oh. God. Yes." With that Sherlock whipped around, John close on his heels as they exited the flat. John grabbed his coat from the arm of the chair, glad it was close enough for him to snatch.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'll skip the tea. Popping out" John apologized.

"All of you?"

"Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" Sherlock beamed, leading to give the older woman a kiss on the cheek.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." She chided, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!" Sherlock strode out of the building. Outside Adara was leaning against a cab, patiently waiting for the two to join her. Sherlock smiled, opening the cab door and ushering her inside, him sliding in after and letting John take the other end.

"Good to have you joining us John." Adara piped up, smiling at him from around Sherlock. John's lip quirked and he nodded, still a bit unsure as to what he had just gotten himself into.


	3. PINK!

As the trio rode in silence Adara looked out the window contentedly as the sun began to set behind some of the passing buildings. Sherlock kept his eyes and hands glued to his smartphone while John sat on his other side uncomfortably. Adara watched his reflection with a small grin as the man continued to glance over at the two of them, painfully obvious that he wanted to say something. It was evident that John struggled to decide on what to ask and how. These new acquaintances were quite odd, yet fascinating so he didn't know where to start. That and if he was to be living with Sherlock he would want to start off on the right foot. After about 20 minutes of this Sherlock tore his eyes away from his phone and looked over at John's troubled expression. He rolled his eyes upwards with a sigh, pocketing his phone.

"Okay, you've got questions." He began the conversation, giving John the go ahead he was looking for.

"Yeah, where are we going?" John blurted out. Sherlock shot him a confused glance as that was obviously not John's intended question. Adara nudged him in the ribs subtly, signaling for him to play nice. Sherlock pursed his lips, preparing to play along so John could finally get to the true questions he wanted to ask.

"Crime scene, next?" Sherlock deadpans. John nodded, turning to look at Sherlock.

"Who are you? What do you do?"

"What do you think?"

"I'd say….. private detective.." John began slowly.

"But?" Sherlock prodded, picking up on the skeptical tone in the man's voice.

"But the police don't go to private detectives." John finished. Sherlock smirked.

"I'm a Consulting Detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job." Adara cleared her throat pointedly. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Well after some selective input." He added in slight annoyance at not taking all the credit. Adara grinned, turning to look back out the window.

"What does that mean?" John asked, his eyes darting between the two of them. Still unsure as to what their relationship was.

"It means that when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me." Sherlock explained.

"The police don't consult armatures." John scoffed. Sherlocks' brow rose at the challenge. The man thought back over his observations with a smirk before diving in.

"When I met you the first time yesterday, I said 'Afghanistan or Iraq' you looked surprised."

"Yes, how did you know?" John asked, glad to finally have that question answered.

"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Barts. So, army doctor, obvious. Your face is tanned but not tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing."

"How did you know about my supposedly psychosomatic limp?" John inquired. Sherlock went to answer but Adara cut in before he had a chance.

"Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand. Quite like you've forgotten about it so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic." Adara clarified to him with a soft smile. John stared at them bewildered, but Sherlock wasn't done.

"Wounded in action then. Wounded in action, suntan…Afghanistan or Iraq." He over pronounced the 'ck' as he finished his ramble with a flourish. John blinked, looking out the window of the cab as he absorbed the information.

"You said I had a therapist." John quietly spoke up once more.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp, of course you've got a therapist." Adara grinned pointedly but not unkindly. John nodded, that one wasn't so hard to figure out.

"Then there's your brother." Sherlock began once more. John frowned.

"Hmmm?"

"Sherlock.." Adara attempted to cut in but was ignored. She shrugged, knowing it was pointless to get his attention once he was on a roll. Settling in she listened to his explanation with an amused smirk.

"Your phone." Sherlock held his hand out for the device. John placed it in his waiting hands and watched as Sherlock pointed out his observations.

"It's expensive, email enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flat share. You wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift then." he held up the phone, rolling it over in his hands as he began pointing out the subtler details.

"Scratches. Not just one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bits easy. You know it already." He shot the man a knowing stare.

"The engraving." John realized looking down at the message on the back of the phone.

**Harry Watson From Clara XXX**

"Harry Watson, clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to so brother it is." John remained quiet but his eyes shot over to the woman on the other end of the cab. He watched as she bit her lip in amusement as Sherlock continued. Adara glanced over and locked eyes with John, the two quietly grinning. Sherlock remained oblivious to the whole interaction.

"Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently, this models only six months old. Marriage in trouble then. Six months on and he's just given it away. If she left him, he would have kept it. People do, sentiment. But no, he wanted to get rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're' looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help. That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking."

"How… can you possibly know about the drinking?" John asked, his words slower than Sherlock's fast paced explanation. Sherlock grinned smugly at his question.

"Shot in the dark." Adara murmured knowingly. Sherlock's lips quirked.

"Good one, though." He agreed with a smug grin. Adara rolled her eyes fondly.

"Power connection, tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes home and plugs it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk man's without them." Sherlock finished, letting the stunned silence settle in once more.

"There you go, you see you were right." He nodded, handing a stunned John his phone. The man looked at Sherlock curiously.

"I was right? Right about what?" John asked nodding reluctantly at how Sherlock really did know all of this.

"The police don't consult amateurs." The taller man concluded, not looking at John as he awaited a response, most likely the one he had become quite accustomed to.

"That….was amazing." John told him, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Sherlock blinked, turning to the man. He glanced over at Adara questioningly, just to be sure he heard it right. She smiled.

"Do you think so?" he asked John with a skeptical frown. This was certainly new.

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off." Sherlock told him bluntly with a grin. John huffed a short laugh before grinning widely himself.

"So where do you fit in with all this?" John inquired leaning forward a bit to look at her properly.

"Sherlock asks me to assist him. He claims that it's because of my psychology background but I like to think he enjoys my company." She grinned. Sherlock pursed his lips at her pointing out his human characteristics such as fondness. John's eyes lit up, getting a better understanding.

"You're a psychologist? That would explain the whole..uh…therapist knowledge then." John mused, still a bit uncomfortable with talking about his limp.

"So, are you a…consulting detective also?" he continued. Sherlock grunted distastefully, catching both of their attention. Adara smiled and pat his arm, giving him the attention she knew he was asking for. He didn't like John's attention on her after he had just praised Sherlock's ability.

"No, that's Sherlock's specialty. I mostly do freelance work, like guest lectures at universities or high-profile criminal cases." She explained in her gentle melodic voice. John nodded with a grin, deciding that he liked talking with her much more than Sherlock. She kept it simple and didn't make him feel like an idiot.

...

...

Arriving at their destination the three of them slid out of the cab once they had paid the fare.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock inquired, straightening up his overcoat and scarf now that they were outside. John blinked, realizing that Sherlock was talking to him.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce. Harry is a drinker." John explained as he limped heavily alongside the duo.

"Spot on then, I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock preened smugly.

"Oh you weren't." Adara hummed. Sherlock looked down at her incredulously as they walked. Adara's satisfied grin never left her face as she stared ahead. She could practically feel his mind backtracking on everything he had said, searching for the answer.

"He never said that it was his brother." She informed him with a small grin. Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Harry is short for Harriet." John confirmed, smiling alongside the woman. Sherlock froze, a rueful frown breaking across his face. John and Adara stopped a couple steps ahead, turning back to look at the seething man.

"Harry is your sister." Sherlock muttered sourly, growling in frustration.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" John inquired, looking around at the cop cars and policemen walking about.

"Sister!" Sherlock hissed irritably. Adara watched patiently as he seethed. How could he miss that?

"Don't worry dear, it happens to everyone." She soothed unconvincingly. Sherlock glared at her.

"I'm not everyone don't even suggest such a thing." He bristled. Her brows rose, lips pursed in a small grin as she tried not to laugh at his dramatics.

"Seriously what am I doing here?" John asked as they continued walking now that Sherlock had started walking once more.

"You knew this whole time, didn't you?" Sherlock accused. Adara shrugged.

"The kisses gave it away. What man would want that on a phone they use regularly? He wouldn't have pulled it out to use it that often." She supplied.

"There's always something." Sherlock hummed in annoyance, completely ignoring John while he and Adara strode ahead of the man. As they approached the tape a not so friendly face came out to greet them with a scowl.

"Hello freak." Sally Donovan greeted sardonically as she walked over to the caution tape.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock informed her dryly. This was not the first time she had been a nuisance.

"Why?" he turned to look at her in annoyance.

"I was invited" he pointed out in a 'duh' tone.

"Why?" Sergeant Donovan asked again with a glare.

"Don't you have something else to do, or be….new words to learn?" Adara asked with a sickly sweet grin. Donovan glared at her darkly.

"I think he wants me to take a look." Sherlock pointed out sarcastically, placing a hand on Adara's back to calm the woman. As the less emotional one of the two it was his duty to keep her composed when the time called for it. However he did secretly enjoy her banter with those who heckled him….which was just about everyone.

"Well you know what I think don't you?" Sally sneered. Sherlock sniffed deeply, fixing his eyes on her.

"Always Sally. I even know you didn't make it home last night." He mused, slipping under the caution tape before holding it up for Adara to pass under it. Sally stared at him with a startled expression before realizing someone new was trying to come across.

"I don't…..er who's this?" she asked looking at John, trying to hide how flustered the comment made her.

"Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson. Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan, old friend." Sherlock briskly introduced. John nodded uncomfortably as Sally glowered at the taller man.

"A sparkling personality as you can tell." Adara smirked wryly, earning another glare from the woman.

"A colleague? How do you get a colleague?" she asked Sherlock in bemusement.

"What did he follow you home?" Sally asked turning to John who fidgeted and turned slightly, ready to leave.

"Would it be better if I just waited and..."

"No." Sherlock quickly dismissed the idea, lifting the tape high enough for him to walk under. John stared at him a moment. His eyes shifted over to Adara who was smiling invitingly at him. Gathering that he was genuinely wanted there John complied, slipping under the police tape to join them.

"Freaks here. Bringin' him in." Donovan radioed as she lead the way towards the front stairs of the abandoned apartment complex. Sherlock glanced around, taking note of some things that may be needed for later. As the group approached, another familiar figure made his way out. A man with what seemed to be a permanent sneer made his way over to them, decked out in his blue hazmat suit.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again." Sherlock hummed tiredly. John watched quietly from the side. He was quickly picking up on the fact that Sherlock was not well liked, despite his incredible gift.

"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated are we clear on that?" Anderson sneered in his nasally voice.

"I'm sure we won't do any more damage than your overwhelming amount of deodorant has done." Adara pointed out briskly. Anderson rolled his eyes, but she caught him subtly sniffing his shirt. Sherlock's lip quirked up at the comment.

"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?" he asked, staring at Anderson with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that." Anderson dismissed in annoyance.

"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock explained. Anderson stared at him in confusion.

"My deodorant?" he asked dryly.

"It's for men." Sherlock pointed out with a devious grin.

"Well of course it's for men! I'm wearing it."

"So is Sergeant Donovan." Adara countered nodding her head at the woman who was listening to the conversation. Anderson's eyes widened in alarm and he whipped around to stare at Sally who shared the same expression. John fought to hide his smile.

"Ohh, and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?" Sherlock asked looking at Anderson, thoroughly amused as they took the duo down a peg or to. It was always satisfying and well deserved with all the grief they were put through.

"Now look, whatever you're trying to imply…"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm sure Sally came round for a nice chat and just happened to stay over." Sherlock mused sarcastically as he strode past the duo. He spun around to address them.

"And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." He added, glancing down to Sally's legs. Anderson was silent as he glanced down, his face paling. Sherlock grinned triumphantly before continuing inside, guiding a snickering Adara along. John followed, unable to resist glancing down too.

"I thought you would point out her knees." Sherlock commented as he lead the way through the old and run down halls.

"I did notice it, which you and I both know. Quite hard to mistake it for anything else once you've seen it first hand." Adara responded. John eyes nearly bugged out at how casually she was discussing this. That and he could have sworn she shot Sherlock a side eye when she said that. Sherlock glanced down at her briskly.

"So why didn't you?" the taller man inquired, not reacting at all to her pointed comment. At least outwardly.

"You deserved the final blow more than I" she hummed, smiling fondly up at him. Sherlock nodded in acceptance, his eyes lingering on her warmly for an extra second. From behind John's brow furrowed as he listened and watched them walk on as if this was an everyday conversation. Maybe it was. If so it certainly would take some getting used to.

...

The three of them made their way into a room beside the staircase that was being used for forensic equipment.

"You need to wear one of these." Sherlock instructed John, pointing to the blue onesie suits that others had on. At the sound of his voice Lestrade looked up, eyeing the group.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked, glancing over at John.

"He's with me." Sherlock explained briefly.

"But who is he?" Lestrade asked again, adjusting his own blue suit.

"I said he's with me." Sherlock insisted. John glanced over as he picked up a suit, noticing that Sherlock was only reaching for the gloves. Adara stood beside him, taking the gloves that Sherlock handed to her before he reached once more for his own.

"Aren't you gonna put one on?" John asked. Sherlock glowered at him silently.

"We'd rather not. Takes up to much time and restricts movement." Adara retorted with a small smile. Once John was occupied making small talk with Adara as he was getting into the suit, Sherlock turned to Lestrade.

"So, where are we?" Sherlock inquired, getting down to business.

"Upstairs" Greg informed him. Silently Lestrade led the way up the spiraling staircase.

"I can give you two minutes." Lestrade informed as he slipped by another technician as they rounded the second floor.

"May need longer." Sherlock hummed, his eyes flitting up the stairs. One more flight until their destination. His brain worked in overdrive as thousands of scenarios ran through his head.

"What do you know so far?" Adara inquired, slowing slightly to walk closer to John who was struggling to keep pace as his leg once more held him back. The man smiled tightly at her, thankful and at the same time frustrated that she had to adjust her pace to accommodate him. Lestrade glanced back at the woman briefly before answering.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her." he quickly informed, leading them up one last flight.

Eventually, they made it to the 3rd level where the room right across from the landing contained the still body of a woman. Lestrade stood off to the side, patiently letting Sherlock do his thing. Sherlock immediately set about examining the surrounding and the woman on the floor as he stood near the entrance. Adara's eyes widened slightly as the observed that everything on the woman was an alarming shade of pink. From her nails to her overcoat to her shoes, it was all the same immaculate shade of pink. John trailed in behind them. As he entered and spotted the body his eyes closed at the sight, sighing sadly. Dead bodies were something it took time to get used to, or then again something one would never get used to. Sherlock frowned, his eyes roaming as he silently took it in.

"Shut up." He shot at Lestrade out of nowhere. Lestrade's head shot up as he stared at the man incredulously.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking. It's annoying." Sherlock pointed out crisply. Lestrade rolled his eyes while Adara frowned.

"Sherlock." She warned. The man sniffed in displeasure, answering her with a grunt before turning back to the room. Sherlock took a step closer to the woman on the floor. He peered down at the carving on the floor to the left of her hand. Her index nail was chipped, indicating that she had scratched the unfinished name into the wooden floor.

** Left handed. **

** RACHE- German: revenge? **

Sherlock frowned, glancing up at Adara questioningly as she had come to stand at the head of the body. Adara rose a brow, shooting him a 'really?' look. Only an idiot would come to that conclusion. As if he was reading her thoughts, Sherlock's lips quirked in is almost smile and he quickly nixed that option. He looked over the word again, looking for a letter to fill in the last spot of the unfinished word.

** Rachel. **

Having that sorted, he swept his coat out and knelt next to the body. Sherlock wiped the back of her coat before rubbing his gloved fingers together.

** Wet. **

Reaching into her coat pockets he discovered a compact umbrella. Pulling it out he ran his other hand along it, rubbing his fingers once more.

** Dry. **

Looking for other indicators he decided on her coat collar which was folded down. He ran his fingers under the collar.

** Wet. **

Adara noted this and with a look from Sherlock, she pulled out her phone looking over weather patterns in the nearby areas. While she did that Sherlock pulled out his compact magnifier he inspected her jewelry. Adara knelt, looking over the jewelry as he did.

** Clean.**

Her earrings, bracelet, necklace all were nicely cleaned and polished. However, when he moved to her wedding ring, it didn't match up.

** Dirty. **

Sherlock paused over it, looking closer at the make and the amount of dirt that had accumulated over the years.

** Married… unhappily … 10+ years. **

Sherlock reached out and pulled the ring off her fingers. He first examined the outside of the ring.

** Dirty. **

Turning on its side he looked at the inside.

** Clean.= regularly removed. Serial adulterer. **

Gathering his conclusions, he placed the ring back onto the woman's finger. Sherlock grinned smugly.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked hopefully, taking note that he was finished. Sherlock stood, slipping off his gloves.

"Not much." He hummed modestly, walking over towards Adara. She smiled lightly when he looked over her shoulder, reading the information she had acquired. He nodded minutely as she had found the correct piece to his puzzle.

"She's German." A voice chimed in from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at Anderson who was leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

"Rache: its German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something." Sherlock quickly strode over, his eyes looking up at the ceiling in annoyance.

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock commented dryly, shutting the door in the man's face. John watched him curiously.

"So she's German?" Lestrade asked.

"Of course, she's not." Sherlock sighed in annoyance.

"She's from out of town though. Intended to stay in London for one night…before returning home to Cardiff." Adara added, looking up from her mobile.

"So far, so obvious." Sherlock mumbled lowly. John frowned.

"Sorry, obvious?" he asked, not finding it very obvious as the man claimed so easily.

"What about the message though?" Lestrade stuttered, pointing to the scratches on the floor.

"Doctor Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock asked, ignoring Lestrade as he fixed his intense gaze on the doctor. John started and glanced around in confusion.

"Of the message?" he asked hesitantly. The conversation was jumping around so fast he was struggling to keep up.

"Of the body. You're a medical man." Sherlock corrected.

"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside." Lestrade contradicted.

"They won't work with him." Adara pointed out kindly but sternly. The man sighed, knowing she was right but still struggling with the fact that they weren't even supposed to be there anyway,

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here." Greg pointed out in exasperation.

"Yes…because you need me." Sherlock quipped. Lestrade paused before sighing in resignation.

"Yes I do, god help me." He muttered. Adara chuckled quietly, reaching over to pat the man on the shoulder. Lestrade smiled ruefully but the gesture did lighten his mood a bit. Once that disagreement had been squared away, Sherlock turned back to John who was watching all the interactions silently.

"Doctor Watson." John froze, looking over at Lestrade for permission.

"Oh do as he says. Help yourself." He sighed, walking out of the room.

"Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes." They heard him instruct the men outside. John and Sherlock walked back over to kneel by the body. Adara remained standing but moved over so she would be closer to the boys. John stared at Sherlock curiously.

"Well?" Sherlock inquired, glancing down at the body pointedly as he waited for John to start. He took no notice of the man's baffled stare.

"What am I doing here?" John asked in a whisper so they couldn't be heard out of the room.

"Helping me make a point." Sherlock told him.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John countered dryly. Sherlock blinked, looking up at Adara in confusion. Was the point not so obvious to others?

"Yea well, this is more fun." Adara pointed out with a small smile. John blinked up at her in disbelief. He turned his eyes to Sherlock, knowing that Adara had become his translator.

"Fun? There's a woman lying here dead." he pointed out.

"Perfectly sound analysis but I was hoping you'd go deeper." Sherlock droned, unimpressed. John relented as Lestrade came back into the room, standing silently off to the side. Doctor Watson took a moment to get his stiff leg into a comfortable position. Leaning forward he opened the woman's mouth, taking a few sniffs. He then glanced at the woman's eyes and lips. Sherlock silently watched his actions, shifting into a squat before tempting his fingers resting his lips against them. Adara shifted to stand closer to the man, so that she was out of John's way. The two of them shared a look as the doctor continued to work with extreme focus. John picked up the woman's hand, looking over the veins.

"Yea….asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, chocked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. it could have been a seizure, possibly drugs." John told them, straightening back up.

"You know what it is. You've read the papers." Sherlock informed. At this John paused, looking back at the woman in a new light as it dawned on him.

"What, she's one of the suicides…the fourth?" He stuttered in confusion.

"Sherlock, two minutes I said. I need anything you've got." Lestrade insisted strongly. Sherlock tilted his head, indicating he had heard. He stood up, looking down at the woman one last time before turning to Greg.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes. I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase." Sherlock rattled on, before sliding past Lestrade as he circled the body. He looked over the small holes in the walls, looking for the one piece that was missing.

"Suitcase?" Lestrade asked, looking lost as he watched the eccentric man.

"Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married" Sherlock continued, looking around the room intently. Lestrade eyed him like he was insane.

"Oh for gods sake. If you're just making this up.."

"Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of the marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside, that means its regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time. So more likely a string of them. Simple." Sherlock quickly explained. John stared at him in awe.

"That's brilliant." He blurted. Sherlock glanced over at him in mild surprise.

"Sorry." John quickly muttered.

"Cardiff?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock shrugged, blowing out a burst of air.

"It's obvious isn't it?" he inquired casually.

"It's not obvious to me?" John corrected, interested in hearing his deductions.

"Dear god, what is it link in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." Sherlock gasped with a frown, obviously pitying them in their state. Adara cleared her throat, her brow raised pointedly at him. He glanced over at her, looking away almost sheepishly at her subtle scolding.

"Explain Sherlock." She prodded, knowing that it was necessary for the other two to catch on. Sherlock sighed, but complied to her request.

"Her coat; its slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but its dry and unused, not just wind, strong wind. Too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" Sherlock explained once more, pointing out the indicators on the body.

"Cardiff" Adara answered for him, showing the men the weather forecast she had pulled up on her phone. Sherlock gestured his open hand towards her, his face indicating 'see she got it.' To the other men.

"That's fantastic!" John gasped.

"Do you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asked him lowly.

"Sorry, ill shut up."

"No, its…fine" Sherlock admitted, finding he liked the praise rather than criticism he got when displaying his abilities. Adara watched the two with an inward smile. She could tell John would be good for Sherlock.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked, breaking up their conversation.

"Yes, where is it?" Sherlock asked, spinning around. He rushed over looking out the doorway for it.

"She must have had a phone or an organizer. It might tell us who Rachel is." He mused.

"She was writing Rachel?" Lestrade realized.

"No, she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel." Sherlock pointed out in annoyance.

"No other word it can be. Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?" Sherlock mused aloud.

"How do you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade asked, once more getting back to the suitcase.

"Back of the right leg, tiny splash marks on the hell and calf. Not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes conscious, could only be an overnight back so we know she was staying one night. Now, where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock asked, leaning over to examine the scuff markings on her heels.

"There wasn't a case?" Lestrade shrugged. Sherlock froze, looking up at him with barely contained delight at this information.

"Say that again." His eyes narrowed curiously.

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase." Lestrade reiterated. Sherlock rushed past him towards the stairwell.

"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there suitcase in this house?" he shouted to anyone that would listen.

"Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade insisted, following him out.

"But they take the poison themselves, they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock rambled, already rushing down the stairs.

"Don't mind him. He doesn't mean it." Adara turned to Lestrade.

"Yes, I do." Sherlock quickly corrected. Adara rolled her eyes, he could have at least played along for one moment.

"Right yea thanks and?..." Lestrade asked, leaning over the railing as he watched Sherlock. The man paused looking up so he could talk to Lestrade.

"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides. They're killings serial killings." Sherlock clapped his hands together excitedly.

"We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to." The man grinned, his body practically buzzing with energy. As he ranted, Adara was calmly making her way down the stairs.

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade called. Sherlock paused now on the last stairwell as he looked up.

"Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here and they took her case." He explained, before another idea dawned on him.

"So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case in the car." He mused aloud.

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." John suggested.

"No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color coordinated her lipstick with her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking like that." Adara corrected, still taking her own sweet time down the stairwell. Sherlock froze, at her observation. His eyes widened in realization. Sometimes even he could admit it was nice to have a woman's take on some situations. Complex creatures that they are.

"Oh…oh!" he gasped.

"Sherlock"

"What is it, what?" the two men atop the stairs asked, noticing his reaction.

"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Sherlock hummed.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade protested.

"Oh, we're dong waiting! Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff, find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Sherlock instructed as he rushed down he last of the stairwell, disappearing from their sight.

"Course yea, but what mistake?!" Lestrade called, still lost as to what just happened. Sherlock briskly came back to the edge of their viewpoint.

"PINK!" he shouted back up before disappearing again. Lestrade and John glanced at one another in confusion, still trying to piece together what Sherlock was going on about.

"Good luck with the case Lestrade, I'm sure it'll be over soon." Adara commented, looking up at the man.

"Adara, you coming?!" an impatient shout was heard from outside. She chuckled in amusement, used to his rushing about. Not, quickening her pace much she continued down the stairs and out the door to meet up with Sherlock who was still buzzing off the high of having a case to solve.


	4. Arch-Enemy

John stood there on the landing while everyone else rushed around, seemingly forgetting that he was there. His jaw clenched as he attempted to dodge the officers and MEs that were rushing up and down the stairwell. Slowly he made his way down the winding staircase to take off the scrubs before heading outside. John glanced around and frowned in confusion as Sherlock was nowhere to be found. Still letting his eyes wander he limped over towards one of the police boundaries where Sally Donovan was. With how odd Sherlock and Adara where he wouldn't be surprised if they just popped out from somewhere.

"He's gone." Sergeant Donovan spoke up, seeing that John was looking around for someone. John jumped a little in surprise, turning to face her.

"Who, Sherlock Holmes?" he asked in confusion.

"Yea, he just took off. He does that." She quipped, pursing her lips.

"What about Adara? She doesn't seem the type." John asked nervously. He hated the feeling of helplessness and abandonment that came with being left behind. Surely Adara would be more compassionate than to leave him behind.

"Oh, she's always off with the freak. She's as mental as he is." Sally told him, her expression softening a bit at how lost the man seemed.

"Are they coming back?" John inquired.

"Didn't look like it." She mused, watching John shift uncomfortably.

"Right…..yes" John muttered, glancing around for a street sign. He really didn't have any idea where they were as it was dark and he had left with the duo in such a flurry.

"Sorry, where am I?" John inquired, distracting Sally from a conversation she was having with another officer.

"Brixton." John nodded.

"Right, uh do you know where I could get a cab? It's just..uh…well…my leg." He explained his fist clenching. It was frustrating how the injury was holding him back and making him so dependent on others. John didn't like it.

"Try the main road." She suggested, lifting the police tape up for him politely.

"Thanks" John nodded, slipping under.

"You're not his friend." She commented as he did. John paused but didn't turn to face her.

"He doesn't have friends." Sally continued pointedly.

"Then what about Adara?" John shot back, already trying to defend these strangers. He turned to face her.

"He doesn't call her his friend. So, no one really knows what she is. More like girlfriend or weird romantic partner really." She mused sourly. The woman looked in over in appraisal.

"So, who are you?" she inquired thoughtfully. No one willingly hung around those two.

"I'm nobody, I just met him." John told her casually.

"Okay, bit of advice then. Stay away from that guy."

"Why?" John instantly shot back, staring coolly. She paused at the clipped tone to his voice. Already protective of Sherlock, much like Adara was. The sergeant smiled ruefully.

"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up won't be enough. One day we'll be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there." She explained, her dislike for the man evident in her disapproving tone.

"Why would he do that?" John asked, unphased by her comments but still curious.

"Because he's a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored." Sally answered with a pointed raise of her brow.

"Donovan!" Lestrade called from the entrance of the building.

"Coming" John stood there thinking on her words as Sally turned to face him again.

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes and Adara Corrigan" she warned once more before walking off. John pursed his lips and frowned in thought. He began making his way towards the main road when the ringing of a phone caught his attention. John paused and looked over to see a payphone ringing but no one was inside. Shrugging off the oddity he continued on.

...

...

"Taxi!" John called once more, sighing in frustration as none of the cabs paid any attention to him and continued walking on. Powering through he hobbled along the street, however a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Hello John, fancy meeting you here." A soft voice greeted, the woman swooping in to link arms with him. John jumped in surprise but smiled at her presence.

"Adara? I thought you left." He stuttered, still shocked at how quickly she had appeared.

"Oh ye of little faith." She hummed with a grin.

"But Donovan said…"

"Oh she's just sour that Sherlock outed her and that wanker Anderson." John's lips quirked in amusement at her blatant dislike for the two.

"I'm picking up that you aren't too fond of them." He hummed. Adara grinned shooting him an innocent stare.

"What ever gave you that idea?" she inquired jokingly. John glances over and frowns as a familiar ring sounds off, this time coming from inside a takeout restaurant.

"So where is Sherlock?" he inquired, his mind still a bit distracted but he didn't want to alert her. John frowned as he noticed that when the employee went to answer the phone, it instantly shut off. A wary feeling settled in his chest.

"He's off partaking in some errands that I would rather not be involved in. Besides he doesn't need my help." She answered as if not having noticed what had just occurred. John shrugged it off again, but still remained alert as they walked on. As they continued for a few more feet they passed another payphone that began ringing when they approached. This put John on edge even more.

"You'd better get that. It won't stop until you answer it." Adara sighed in exasperation, halting their walk. John frowned shooting her a curious glance.

"How do you?..."

"Trust me." She insisted with a comforting smile, shooing him into the telephone booth. Adara shut the door behind him and leaned on the wall, waiting for him to finish. He eyed her, trying to piece together why she was so composed about all of this.

"Hello?" John hesitantly asked as he picked up the receiver.

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?" a low and calm voice inquired. John frowned.

"Who's this? Who's speaking?"

"Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?" the voice asked once more. The use of his name caught John's attention. Looking over as directed he saw the camera facing him.

"Yea I see it."

"Watch" The camera was suddenly turned all the way around so it faced a wall.

"There is another security camera on the building opposite. Do you use it?" the voice continued.

"Mmhhmmm" John hummed in answer, biting the inside of his lip. Again the camera was turned all the way around so it no longer was on him.

"And finally, at the top of the building on your right." John turned, shifting a little so he could see the camera better. Now he knew that there was no record of his whereabouts on camera.

"How are you doing this?" he asked stiffly.

"Get into the car, doctor Watson." The voice insisted, ignoring the doctor's questions. John saw a small black car pull up to the curb. The man driving approached and ushered Adara into the passenger seat, with little protest from her. John swallowed as his body went on full alert.

"I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure your situation is quite clear to you." The voice drawled calmly, already knowing what had taken place. Once Adara was inside the driver held the back door open, waiting on John. The man looked at the receiver as he heard the dial tone and hung up the phone calmly. Swallowing, he turned and made his way over to the car. Inside was another woman who was sitting calmly, fully absorbed in her phone. John looked up towards the driver and became increasingly nervous that there was a barrier blocking his view from Adara and the man. John rode in silence, watching the buildings pass by as the driver took a very elaborate route to wherever they were headed.

"Hello." John greeted, tired of the tense silence. The woman beside him perked her head up as if just noticing he was there.

"Hi." She greeted politely but with obvious disinterest as she looked back down at her phone. John blinked and glanced around awkwardly before trying to start conversation up again.

"What's your name then?" he inquired.

"Uh…Anthea." She answered distractedly, not looking away from her device.

"Is that your real name?" John narrowed his eyes at her curiously. She looked up at him with a small grin.

"No" she deadpanned. He frowned in confusion. The whole situation was rather odd and now that he saw they were headed to a more remote part of town he was growing even more confused.

"I'm John" he told her, watching out the window to try and figure out their location.

"Yes, I know." The woman answered. John's head whipped around.

"Any point in asking where I'm going?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"None at all….John." she sighed. John nodded.

"Okay"

...

...

Eventually the car pulled into the bottom level of a warehouse. The headlights illuminating the figure of a man leaning against his umbrella as he stood in the center of the open space. Once the car was parked John got out, taking a moment to make sure Adara joined him. He wasn't about to let her out of his sight if he had any say in the matter. Who knows what they were getting into. John made his way over, glaring at the man in front of him.

"Have a seat John." The man suggested, pointing at the lone chair with his umbrella.

"You know, I've got a phone." John pointed out as he continued over towards him.

"I mean, very clever and all that, but uh….you could just phone me. On my phone." He continued sarcastically, ignoring the chair and coming to stop right in front of the man.

"Well since it looks like we might be here for a while I'll have a seat then." Adara commented, ignoring the tension in the room as she planted herself onto the chair. She leaned back against the chair, crossing her arms as she settled in, knowing John was never going to take the seat. The mystery man rolled his eyes at her lack of formality.

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet. Hence this place." The mystery man continued with a polite grin on his face as he glanced around them.

"That and he just likes to show off." Adara hummed, keeping her face stony. John's tension increased as he glanced between the two individuals staring blankly at one another.

"You two know each other?" he inquired, being sure to stand closer to Adara as his chivalry won out. Her lips quirked as she took notice of the small movement.

"You could say that." The man mused coolly, his expression just as blank as hers was. Neither one was willing to give up any emotion before one another.

"The leg must be hurting you. Sit down." The man insisted once more as he turned back to John, quickly redirecting the man's train of thought.

"I don't wanna sit down." John countered, staring up at the man. John stood firm as the man looked over him thoughtfully.

"You don't seem very afraid." He pointed out, tilting his head in intrigue.

"You don't seem very frightening." Adara grinned and man chuckled in bored amusement before schooling his features back to neutral.

"Ah yes, the bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" he pointed out, staring back down at John.

"What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked. John's brows rose in surprise.

"I don't have one. I barely know him. I met him.." he turned to Adara for help.

"Yesterday." She answered for him. John nodded towards her in agreement.

"Mmmm, and since yesterday you've moved in with I'm and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" the man drawled teasingly.

"Don't be so dramatic." Adara shot back pointedly. The man's lips quirked as he stared at her challengingly.

"And what about your own announcements? Hmmm, don't think I haven't been keeping tabs on you." John stiffened as he glanced between the two. Adara grinned deviously.

"Oh don't worry your little head. If there was an announcement we will be sure to leave you off the list." She hummed teasingly. The man narrowed his eyes at her.

"Who are you?" John piped up, directing the attention back to himself. It was very evident that he and Adara were very familiar with one another. That and this man was oddly interested in Sherlock's life as well as being secretive about it.

"An interested party" the man answered, going along with the change.

"Interested in Sherlock? Why? I'm guessing you're not friends." John pointed out.

"You've met him. How many friends do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable for having. Besides Ms. Corrigan here but that's an entirely different matter." he mused.

"And what are you?"

"An enemy" Adara answered for him. John looked over at her in surprise before turning his attention back to the man.

"An enemy?" John reiterated in confusion. Who used that word anymore?

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic." The man elaborated thoughtfully.

"Pot calling the kettle black." Adara retorted under her breath with an eye roll.

We'll, thank god you're above all that." John added, pointedly looking around them. The whole situation screamed dramatics. The mystery man tilted his head down at John curiously. A chime sounded out in the silence and John reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell. Opening it up he read the text.

** Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. -SH**

"I hope I'm not distracting you." The man commented.

"Not distracting me at all." John easily dismissed, putting his phone away.

"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

"I could be wrong….but I think that's none of your business." John pointed out bitingly.

"It could be."

"It really couldn't." the man continued, ignoring Johns tone as he reached into his jacket to pull out a small journal and scanned over it.

"If you do move into um…..two hundred and twenty-one B Baker street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." the man offered, putting away the small book.

"Why?"

"Because you're a not a wealthy man." He answered as if it was obvious.

"In exchange for what?" John clarified pointedly.

"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel…uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to."

"Why?"

"I worry about him. Constantly" the man answered seriously.

"How sweet." Adara teased. The man grunted in displeasure at the comment.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concerned go unmentioned. We have what you might call a….difficult relationship." He continued with a frown, staring at the two of them pointedly.

"You know I can't promise that." Adara told him with an evil grin. The man glared.

"I assure you, it would be in your best interests if you did Ms. Corrigan." He growled. Another text came in on John's phone and he pulled it out once more.

**If inconvenient come anyway- SH **

John stared down at the message, mulling the man's offer over in his head.

"No" he answered.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure"

"Don't bother." The man chuckled in mild amusement once more.

"You're very loyal, very quickly." Adara mused with a thoughtful expression. John frowned at her, thrown off by her sudden change of interest.

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested." He defended, looking over at the man. As that was who he was supposed to be against in this whole situation.

"But you have trust issues according to your therapist." She continued. John sputtered, looking over at her incredulously.

"Whose side are you on? Look…could we not do this now?" John insisted tensely, fully baffled that she would begin to pick on him along with Sherlock's enemy. What was she doing?

"Could be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes and Adara of all people?" the man inquired, staring at John intently.

"Who says I trust them?"

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily."

"Are we done?" John asked tightly, his body on edge from the accusations and the threatening demeanor of this whole ordeal. The man stared at John.

"You tell me" John tilted his head, wondering what game the man was playing. Without another word he looked over to Adara who stood and the two of them began making their way to the car.

"I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen." The man commented, getting John to stop where he was. He shook his head, knowing he really shouldn't indulge the man but couldn't help it and turned around anyway.

"My what?"

"Show me." John glared at the man for a moment before lifting his hand up with a bit of attitude. The man hung his umbrella in the crook of his arm and walked over, reaching up to grab the hand.

"Don't" John warned. The man stared down at him with a scolding expression. John ground his teeth as he reluctantly pulled his hand back out for the man to examine.

"Remarkable."

"What is?" John inquired, jerking his hand away.

"Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes you see the battlefield. You've seen it already haven't you?" the man mused knowingly.

"What's wrong with my hand?" John asked, his jaw clenching.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand." John's jaw ticked at the mention of it.

"Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service." The man explained.

"Who the hell are you?" John snarled instinctively before schooling his features once more.

"How do you know that?" he reworded, not making eye contact with the man.

"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way around. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady." John struggled to control his breathing as the man continued.

"You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson. You miss it." He finished with a grin.

"Welcome back." He whispered tauntingly before turning to walk off. John swallowed thickly but said nothing to negate the man. Johns phone went off once more but he ignored it.

"Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson." The man called before rounding the corner out of sight.

"I'm to take you home." 'Anthea' told John, her eyes locked on her phone as she approached him. John sighed, pulling out his phone once more as the stress began to leave his body.

** Could be dangerous- SH**

John put the phone away without answering. After a moment of thought he held out his left hand and stared at it, noticing how still it was. His lips quirked up as he realized the man was right.

"Address?" 'Anthea' inquired heading back to the car.

"Baker street. 221 B Baker street." Adara answered for them, this time getting into the back seat.

"But I need to stop off somewhere first." John added as he slipped in after her. John had the driver swing by his old flat. While he was gone Adara took a moment to look at her messages as she knew Sherlock was bound to send her a few, judging by how many he was sending John.

** Why isn't he answering. Where are you?- SH**

** Patience Dear- AC**

She grinned in amusement at his antics, pocketing the phone just as John opened up the door. Adara took notice of the slight bulge that was now in the back of John's jacket. Seems as if he had picked up his handgun. For the ride back she made no mention of it and rode in silence until the car pulled up on the curb at 221 B Baker Street. Adara and John unbuckled but sat there for a moment. Adara looked to John with a frown as she was waiting on him to slip out first since she was in the middle.

"Listen, your boss…..any chance you could not tell him this is where I went?" John requested the other woman.

"Sure" she shrugged.

"You've already told him already, haven't you?"

"Yea." John pursed his lips, kicking himself for not realizing that. He opened up the car door and prepared to get out, only to pause and lean back. Adara rolled her eyes up to the ceiling behind him. What was the point?

"Hey, um…..do you ever get any free time?" He inquired, looking over at 'Anthea'. She chuckled, still typing on her phone.

"Oh, yea. Lots." John stared at her expectantly. Noticing the silence the woman looked over at John pointedly.

"Bye." She prodded.

"Okay." John nodded and quickly scrambled out of the car.

"John I could have told you that it wasn't going to work and we could have been inside by now." Adara pointed out and she quickly made her way towards the door.

"Right well thanks for the advice." John sighed sarcastically. That information would have been helpful before he made the situation awkward.


	5. Her Case

Upstairs in the flat, Sherlock was lying on the sofa, his head resting on the cushion as he was buried deep in his thoughts. The sleeves on his white button up rolled up to his elbows and one hand pressed tightly to the underside of his alternate forearm. Sherlock clenched his unoccupied hand tightly, taking in a breath of air. His eyes snap open, staring dazedly up at the ceiling, letting out a drawn-out breath; his body relaxing. John comes in and stops in the doorway staring as Sherlock repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fist.

"What are you doing?" he asks, eyeing Sherlock skeptically.

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think." Sherlock explained, showing John the three patches on his fore-arm.

"Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." He continued, emphasizing the K at the end of this sentence.

"It's good news for breathing." John quipped, still standing in the doorway.

"Oh breathing. Breathing's boring." Sherlock scoffed dismissively. John nodded his head, choosing not to argue with the man who was still in a daze.

"And yet necessary for life." Adara hummed as she followed John into the room. Sherlock pursed his lips at her rebuttal. Couldn't really disagree with that.

"Is that three patches?" John asked incredulously, staring at his arm. Sherlock templed his hands under his chin.

"It's a three-patch problem." Sherlock answered, as if it were obvious.

"Well at least you're cutting back." Adara quipped sarcastically, shooting the nearly comatose man a pointed stare. Sherlock ignored her jibe and John glanced between them wide eyed while she swiftly made her way into the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. While she was busy in the kitchen John stood there silently, staring down at Sherlock who had yet to say anything else.

"Well?" John finally asked. Sherlock remained still, his eyes closed as he thought. John smiled tightly and spoke up again.

"You asked me to come. I'm assuming its important" Sherlock didn't answer instantly, but after a beat of silence he seemed to snap out of his thoughts abruptly.

"Oh, yea of course. Can I borrow your phone?" John looked up at the ceiling, barely believing what he had just heard. Sherlock had texted him, making it seem urgent….to use his phone.

"My phone?" he asked in confusion.

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website."

"Mrs. Hudson's got a phone." John pointed out.

"Yea, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear."

"And heaven forbid you get up yourself to get it from her" Adara added bemused, but clear affection in her tone as she joined them in the room with her fresh cup of tea.

"Of course not." Sherlock agreed. John stared at the man in disbelief, before looking to Adara for explanation as to why he was so difficult. She shrugged, sitting down in the silver leather chair that Sherlock had unofficially claimed for himself.

"I was on the other side of London." John ground out.

"There was no hurry." His jaw clenched while Sherlock continued staring at the ceiling, un-phased by his companion's growing irritation. Reluctantly John dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone and holding it out to Sherlock.

"Here." Sherlock held out his hand without opening his eyes, silently asking for the device. John slapped the phone into his palm while glowering at the man. Sherlock slowly put his hands together once more, the phone stuck between them. John made his way over to the fireplace that had a log burning. He turned back to face Sherlock.

"So, what's this about? The case?"

"Her case." Adara corrected, looking up at him as she sipped her tea.

"Yes, her case." Sherlock whispers distractedly.

"Her case?" Sherlock finally opened his eyes.

"Her suitcase, yes, obviously." He deadpanned before drifting back into his own little world.

"The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake." He muttered lowly, thinking aloud.

"Okay, he took her case. So?" John inquired, not seeing the big deal.

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Sherlock murmured quietly to himself, ignoring John. He frowned, watching Sherlock closely.

"On my desk, there's a number. I want you to send a text." Sherlock instructs, holding out the phone to John, still not sparing him a glance. John stared at him blankly before smiling bitterly as he let the words sink in.

"You brought me and Adara here…..to send a text?"

"Text, yes. The number on my desk." Sherlock gestured blindly, not processing John's tone. Adara watched the interaction with a smirk, thoroughly amused at the whole situation. However, she was greatly impressed with how well John was acclimating to Sherlock's idiosyncrasies. Giving in to Sherlock's request, John made his way over to take the phone from him. While fiddling with the phone, John glanced out the window as if looking for something. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock noticed. He frowned, glancing to Adara questioningly. She stared back at him evenly, giving away nothing and simply flitted her eyes over towards John. Sherlock needed to instigate the conversation, be more personable.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock inquired tilting his head up towards John.

"Just met a friend of yours." John hummed worriedly. Sherlock frowned incredulously, his eyebrow creating deep lines in his forehead.

"A friend?" he asks in bewilderment, looking to Adara. She chuckled at his reaction.

"An enemy." John corrected. Sherlock instantly relaxed. That made much more sense.

"Oh, which one?" he asked curiously. John turned his head to stare at the man in confusion at his tone. Even if they did have enemies, most people wouldn't be so casual about it.

"Your arch-enemy, according to him. Do, people have arch-enemies?" Sherlock turns to John, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?" he asked quietly instead.

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"No"

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time." Sherlock scolded, causing John to grin a bit.

"That's what I did." Adara imputed, looking at John with a grin. He frowned at how she was so unnerved by the whole ordeal. Was he the only one that found the whole situation odd?

"So, you're getting paid by him now?" John inquired.

"No, he found out what we were doing and cut me off." Adara sighed, her lips twisting into a pout. . John stared at duo, bewildered by the odd couple.

"Who is he?" John inquired.

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now. On my desk, the number." Sherlock rambled impatiently. With a nod John hobbled over to the desk, typing in the number off the small index card.

"Jennifer Wilson. That was….hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?" John asked, looking over at Sherlock in alarm.

"Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number." Adara gently prodded, knowing Sherlock was going to be very pushy about getting this text out. Oftentimes it was best not to question Sherlock. Taking her advice John began typing it in.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yes"

"Have you done it"

"Ye,...hang on!" John huffed.

"Not everyone is as fast as you are Sherlock, give the man a few seconds to put the number in." Adara chided, Sherlock pouting in response. He sighed dramatically as he waited another 5 seconds exactly before talking again.

"These words exactly: 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. Twenty-two Northumberland street. Please come'." Sherlock narrated deliberately as John typed. Midway through, John looked up at Sherlock with a worried frown.

"You blacked out?" Sherlock glanced at John, doing a double take in surprise.

"What? No. No!" Sherlock flailed his legs about, placing his feet on the floor as he quickly crosses the room, simply stepping over the coffee table in his way. Adara got up from his chair, sipping on her tea as she perched on the arm of it.

"Type and send it. Quickly." Sherlock instructed as he disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with a small pink suitcase in his hands. He swung around his desk chair to the front of his designated armchair. Setting the case down in the chair he unzipped the case and flipped open the lid.

"Have you sent it?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"What's the address?" John asked once more as he focused on typing.

"22-Northumberland street. Hurry up!" Sherlock snapped, sitting down and staring at the contents. As he shifted, Sherlock subconsciously leaned against Adara's thigh, sighing quietly as she ran a hand through his curls. Once he had sent the message John turned to see Sherlock with the pink case. He stared in shock, glancing between it and Sherlock.

"That's….that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case." He stutters.

"Yes, obviously." Taking note of John's unusual silence Sherlock glances up at him. He sighs, rolling his eyes at John's accusatory stare.

"Oh, perhaps I should mention; I didn't kill her." Sherlock pointed out sarcastically.

"I never said you did." John blinked in confusion.

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption." Sherlock pointed out.

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" Sherlock smirked in amusement.

"Every once in a while." Adara commented in amusement, sharing Sherlock's smirk. Sherlock pulled himself up to perch on the armchair before clasping his hands together, continuing to stare at the open case.

"Okay…" John limps over, dropping into the armchair opposite of the couple.

"How did you get this?"

"By looking." Sherlock deadpanned. Adara nudged his arm, nearly causing him to go off balance.

"Where Sherlock, is what he is asking." She pointed out.

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, particularly a man which is statistically more likely. So obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens. And anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip." Sherlock explained. John nodded looking over at Adara as the pieces fell into place.

"Ah….the errand you didn't want to partake in?" he asked knowingly. Adara nodded with a sheepish grin.

"I'm not particularly fond of dumpster diving." She admitted with a chuckle.

"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" John turned to Sherlock curiously.

"Well, it had to be pink, obviously." Sherlock frowned in confusion as to why it was so hard to comprehend.

"Why didn't I think of that?" John muttered under his breath.

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock answered instantly. John jerked his head up in surprise. Sherlock waved apologetically at the man.

"No, no, no don't look like that. Practically everyone is." He amended poorly. John looked away in quiet exasperation.

"That doesn't make it better." Adara countered pointedly.

"Well that's hardly my fault." Sherlock muttered sourly. She merely rolled her eyes, more than used to his bluntness and his massive ego.

"Now look. Do you see what's missing?" Sherlock gestured down towards it.

"From the case? How could I?" John sighed.

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, and there's no phone in the case. We know she had one, that's her number there; you just texted it." Adara calmly explained for him. John nodded, thankful that she was willing to lay out the facts for him to process through.

"Maybe she left it at home." he suggested. Sherlock pushes himself up, unfurling his legs so he could sit properly on the chair.

"She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home."

"Trust me it's hard keeping up with a long list of men at one time." Adara smirked. Sherlock bristled, turning his head to glare at her.

"That's not amusing in the least." He growled. Adara shrugged.

"It wasn't meant to be." She pointed out. Grinning in amusement at the now put out Sherlock she reached over to run her hand through his curls once more, the action getting an immediate response as he relaxed.

"Don't worry dear, I only keep up with you now. You know that." she chuckled. Sherlock eyed her, his lip quirking in what John was picking up as his usual grin. John took his time processing all of this. He glanced at the case, at Sherlock, and then down at his phone.

"Uh….why did I just send that text?" he asked warily.

"Well, the question is, where is her phone now?"

"She could have lost it."

"Yes, or…" Sherlock looked at John expectantly as the answer dawned on the man.

"The murderer…..you think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone."

"Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?" as if it heard the question, John's phone began to ring, the caller ID withheld. John looked over at Sherlock in alarm and slight awe.

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be for her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer….. would panic." Adara explained knowingly. With a nod of agreement Sherlock dramatically flipped the lid of the case back up, and in a flurry of movement gathered up his suit jacket. Adara stood and smoothed down Sherlock's lapels while he buttoned up his jacket, saving him some time. John stared down at the ringing phone curiously before turning to look at them.

"Have you talked to the police?" John inquired.

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police." Sherlock quipped pointedly.

"So why are you talking to me?" John frowned in confusion. Sherlock's face dropped into a sad pout as he glanced over at the empty mantle space.

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull." Sherlock sighed with a frown and reached for his long overcoat behind the door. After setting it on his forearm he reached for Adara's and slipped it on for her, sending her a brief quirk of his lips.

"So, I'm basically filing in for your skull?" John deadpanned in disapproval after he glanced back to see the empty spot on the mantle.

"Relax you're doing fine." Sherlock assured, sliding his coat on. John rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Well?" Sherlock inquired after a beat of silence.

"Well what?" John spat in utter confusion. What else did the man want? Obviously, his company wasn't wanted so what else was the man looking for?

"Well, you could just sit here and watch telly." Sherlock pointed out with distaste as Adara helped straighten out his coat. John's head shot up to look over at the man curiously.

"What, you want me to come with you?" he asked.

"I like company when I go out and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention so…" Sherlock trailed off thoughtfully. John grinned, unable to stop his short laugh.

"Why don't you just talk to Adara?" he weakly pointed out. The woman in question grinned.

"She doesn't always talk back." Sherlock pursed his lips. John nodded, a thoughtful smile on his face. It probably was more like he didn't give her a chance to talk if the experiences from this past day was anything to go by.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked watching John's expression.

"Yea, sergeant Donovan." John answered. Instantly the duo rolled their eyes.

"What about her?" Adara asked exasperatedly.

"She said….you get off on this. You enjoy it." Sherlock's lip quirked as he fiddled with his scarf.

"And I said dangerous and here you are." Sherlock countered calmly. With that Sherlock exited and Adara grinned at the man pointedly before swiftly following after him, leaving John to sit there in silence. After a few seconds he aggressively leaned onto his cane, pulling himself up and following after them muttering a quiet 'damn it' under his breath.

...

...

Adara glanced back just as John burst out the front door. She subtly tugged on Sherlock's arm it was already linked with hers as they walked across the street. Sherlock obediently slowed his brisk pace, allowing for John to catch up to them.

"Nice of you to join us." She hummed shooting the shorter man a knowing grin. John smirked, shaking his head. Of course she knew he would follow after them. The trio walked in silence for a few moments as they made their way through the streets, Sherlock leading the way.

"Where are we going?" John inquired and he hurriedly limped to keep up with them.

"Northumberland street's a five minute walk from here."

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" John asked incredulously. Sherlock grinned in delight.

"No….I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught." The man gushed. John frowned.

"Why?"

"Appreciation, applause, at long last the spotlight! That's the frailty of genius John; it needs an audience." Sherlock explained easily. John's eyebrows shot up as he nodded in agreement. Sherlock was definitely evidence of that. Adara shared a grin with him, knowing all to well Sherlock's need to show off.

"Obviously." Adara muttered, turning to look up at the oblivious man on her arm. Not picking up on the interaction his companions had shared, Sherlock gently slipped Adara's arm out of his and spun around as they walked.

"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go." He mused aloud, John listening thoughtfully while Adara scanned the streets.

"Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of the crowd?" Sherlock asked, clapping his hands together as he thought.

"Dunno who?" John inquired.

"Adara?" Sherlock turned to the woman beside him.

"Going to need some time to think on that. Narrow down the options." She shrugged in answer. Sherlock smirked. Of course she had options, the woman knew how to 'hunt' better than anyone he knew.

"So do you know who?" John asked, leaning forward to look at Sherlock curiously. From the tone of his voice, John assumed that Sherlock already knew and was just asking them as some sort of test. There had been a good bit of that going on all day. Sherlock took in a breath, pressing his gloved hands to his lips in thought.

"Haven't the faintest; hungry?" the man shrugged, letting his hands flop back down to his side as he led them to a café down the street. John stuttered in his gait before dashing after them, the sudden change of topic catching him off guard.

...

The group entered a quaint little café. The young man at the door instantly gestured for them to take the seat by the window, as if already expecting their company.

"Thank you, Billy." Sherlock nodded. Slipping out of his coat he sat on the bench at the far end of the table, instantly turning sideways to he can stare out the window. Adara slipped in onto the bench beside him while John took the other section of the 'L' shaped bench, with his back to the window. Sherlock nodded his head to the building across the street.

"22 Northumberland street. Keep your eyes on it." He indicated, not taking his eyes off the building.

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad." John asked, slipping out of his own coat and setting his cane aside.

"He has killed four people." Sherlock countered pointedly.

"….okay," John nodded; he had a point. The owner of the restaurant approached the table, with a grin on his face.

"Sherlock. Adara." The large man greeted, shaking his hand before yanking Adara up and wrapping her up into a tight hug. Adara chuckled and weakly patted the man's back as her arms were a little trapped.

"Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." He insisted, laying some menus out for the group after letting go of the woman. Sherlock grinned politely at the large man.

"On the house, for you and your dates." The man added. John looked up at the man in alarm.

"Do you want to eat?" Sherlock asked John, not contradicting the statement.

"I'm not his date."

"It's not a date." John and Adara pointed out at the same time. John looking alarmed at the thought of him dating Sherlock, while Adara just glanced over the menu casually.

"These two got me off a murder charge." The man continued, gesturing to the couple with a grin. John's eyes widened in annoyance at his claims being ignored once more.

"This is Angelo." Sherlock introduced before shifting back around to look out the window once more. The large man, Angelo, offered his hand in greeting to John.

"Three years ago, Adara and I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town…house breaking." Sherlock elaborated.

"They cleared my name." Angelo beamed, talking to John.

"We cleared it a bit." Adara corrected with an amused shake of her head. He was still breaking and entering, so not exactly cleared.

"Has anything been happening opposite?" Sherlock inquired, his eyes still locked to the street opposite them.

"Nothing." Angelo sighed, glancing across the street before turning back to talk to John.

"If not for those two, I'd have gone to prison." The man explained.

"You did go to prison." Adara corrected once more.

"I'll get a candle for the table. Its more romantic." Angelo told them before taking off.

"It's not a date!" Adara called after him, rolling her eyes as she was blatantly ignored. Sherlock set his menu on the opposite end of the table before staring back out the window.

"You may as well eat. We might have a long wait." Sherlock informed, looking over at John briefly. Angelo came back with a small glass bowl with a tea light, putting it on the table before walking off once more. Adara rolled her eyes but didn't move it.

...

After a few minutes John was eating his meal while Sherlock's gaze remained fixed on the building across the street, quietly drumming his fingers on the table. Adara nibbled on some garlic bread before glancing between the two of them as they all sat in silence.

"Well, as exciting as this stakeout is….I'm going to talk to Angelo for a moment. Let me know if anything happens." Adara announced. She patted Sherlock's leg fondly before standing and heading towards the kitchen where their friend was bound to be. Sherlock merely spared her a quick glance before staring back out the window in silence once more. John glanced between the two of them, still a bit unsure as to what the relationship was. They seemed a little close to be siblings besides the fact that they didn't look alike. But there also hadn't been any definitive evidence that they were even romantically involved. And apparently no one around them addressed it either. There was just so much he had yet to figure out about the two. They didn't do anything like regular people.

"People don't have arch-enemies." John pointed out suddenly, breaking the silence. Sherlock slowly turned to face him.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, blinking as he realized John was talking to him.

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen." John reiterated. Sherlock returns to looking out the window, disinterested in the conversation.

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull." He droned.

"So who did I meet?" John inquired.

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?" Sherlock asked instead, looking back at John.

"Friends, people they know, people they like, people they don't like.." He listed. John looked up at the man curiously before adding the rest.

"…girlfriends…boyfriends.." he trailed off watching Sherlock's expression. Surely Adara fit in that list somewhere.

"Yes, well as I was saying….dull." Sherlock sneered, staring back out the window.

"You don't have a girlfriend then?" John asked pointedly. Sherlock pursed his lips in thought.

"Girlfriend? I wouldn't say that, no. Not really my area." Sherlock dismissed distractedly. John narrowed his eyes in confusion, humming thoughtfully. After a moment, his face cleared up in possible realization. Maybe he had been reading the whole Adara situation wrong.

"Oh, right. Do you have a boyfriend?" John inquired tentatively. Sherlock turned to stare at the man with narrowed eyes.

"Which is fine by the way." the man quickly added.

"I know its fine." Sherlock interrupted. John grinned, indicating that he didn't mean anything by the statement.

"So, you've got a boyfriend then?"

"No." Sherlock deadpanned. John groaned in exasperation, causing Sherlock to stare at him curiously.

"Then what's Adara?" he inquired seriously. Sherlock grinned slightly at her name.

"Like you said, normal people have girlfriends. I'm not normal people, therefore I find the term to mundane to describe her significance to me." Sherlock elaborated. John nodded, staring down at the table thoughtfully. So, in a sense she was Sherlock's girlfriend, he just didn't want to call her that. It was rather sweet really…in an odd sort of way…that Sherlock didn't see the casual title suitable for her relevance in his life. As John sorted out this new information, Sherlock watched him fidget awkwardly. He looked back out the window once more, before widening his eyes in surprise. Maybe John's uncomfortable silence after hearing that Adara was his significant other indicated something else. Paring that with his comments about boyfriends...Sherlock turned back around awkwardly and rapidly began speaking as he tried to rectify the situation.

"John, um….I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, other than Adara who works with me so that negates the point….while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any…" he quickly babbles, John rapidly shaking his head as Sherlock rambled.

"No! No, I'm not asking. No." John quickly clarified. John pointed stared at Sherlock, making sure his point was getting across.

"I'm just saying, it's all fine." he explained. Sherlock stared at the man for a moment longer before nodding, seeing John's sincerity.

"Good. Thank you." Sherlock turned his attention back to the street once more. John looked away in bemusement at where the conversation had taken quite the turn. At that moment Adara returned, frowning as the atmosphere seemed to have shifted a bit while she was gone. Glancing over at John she rose a brow at how the man wouldn't meet her gaze and Sherlock refused to turn around. Something had happened while she was gone and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what. Sliding into the booth she looked over to where Sherlock's gaze had become locked.

"Look across the street. Taxi." Sherlock pointed out, nodding his head in that direction. John twisted around in his seat to look out the window, spotting the taxi parted beside the building they had been watching.

"It's stopped but no one is getting in or out." Adara mused. In the backseat, the male passenger glanced around as if looking for someone.

"Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever? Is it clever, why is it clever?" Sherlock mumbled under his breath, confusing himself.

"That's him?" John inquired.

"Don't stare." Sherlock scolded. John whipped around to look at Sherlock incredulously.

"You're staring." He pointed out indignantly.

"We can't both stare." Sherlock huffed. Adara cleared her throat, getting the bickering duo's attention.

"Why don't I just stare? I'm the most inconspicuous one as I am already facing the window to talk to you. You are the one staring like a creep." Adara quipped, smirking over at Sherlock. The man turned to face her, lips pursed in annoyance.

After another minute of watching the taxi, Adara stood up slipping on her jacket, while Sherlock followed after her once he had grabbed his own coat and scarf. John quickly followed after them as they made their way to the door. Once outside, Sherlock shrugged on his coat while keeping his gaze on the taxi. The passenger continued to stare out the window. As they watched, the man in the back glanced around and noticed the trio watching him intently. The man turned back around, leaned forward to talk with the driver. The taxi began to take off moments later. Instantly Sherlock darted out into the street without looking. As a result a car came barreling towards him, Sherlock barely having time to brace himself and jump just enough to where he could avoid major impact. The tall man slapped his hands on the front of the car, vaulting and sliding across the front of it as he continued his pursuit. Adara and John quickly darted around the car, taking off into a sprint after Sherlock.


	6. Rachel

They chased after the cab for a few steps before stopping once the vehicle had accelerated into traffic. "I've got the cab number" John informed as they paused in the street, knowing they couldn't keep up with a moving car.

"Good for you" Sherlock mumbled in disinterest before scrunching his face up in thought as a traffic map of London ran through his head. Brining up his hands to the side of his face he focuses in on all the routes the taxi will be taking. John watches him with wide eyes and takes a step forward, his doctor instincts kicking in but a hand on his chest stops him. He glances over at Adara who's eyes are locked on Sherlock's hunched form as if waiting for something.

"Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights." He mumbles in rapid succession, talking aloud to organize his thoughts. Opening his eyes as he memorized the route he spots a man unlocking the door to a nearby building, instantly setting off an 'alternative route' sign in his imagination. Sherlock dashes towards the man, shoving him out of the way before charging into the building, ignoring the man's yells of protest of being manhandled. John and Adara quickly chase after him, John taking a second to wave in apology at the baffled man, tagging on a rushed 'sorry' as he entered the building behind the other two. Sherlock races up the stars onto a metal fire escape towards the roof, mentally tracking the cab's route. In front of the group, Sherlock being the tallest takes the stairs two and three at a time, Adara easily keeping up with his pace while John struggles to keep up at the rear.

"Come on, John" Sherlock encourages, not slowing down his gait. Reaching the top, Sherlock runs over to the edge of the roof and looks down to see a metal spiral staircase leading to the down the side of the building to another door on a lower floor. Adara quickly takes the lead as she flies down those stairs and climbs onto the railing before leaping across the gap onto a neighboring building, continuing her fast gait as she vaults across the series of neighboring railings and rooftops. Sherlock watches her with an adrenaline filled grin before following her lead. John scrambles behind them.

Sherlock and Adara race to the other side of the building grouping and leap over to the next roof without missing a beat. This time as John trails behind, he skids to a stop, staring down at the gap between the roofs. He stares down at the gap nervously. It was easy for his companions to cross as they were both lankier and seemingly more agile that he was. John was unsure as to whether or not he could make the jump. He swallows thickly, staring down at the sheer drop into the alleyway below.

"Come on, John! We're losing him!" Sherlock prods anxiously, grabbing the man's attention.

"You can do it, John! Come on." Adara chimes in, much more encouraging than Sherlock had been. With new determination John backs up a few steps and braces himself, taking a few nervous breaths. Leaving no time for second thoughts he sprints forward and makes the leap across. Once all are across the roof, the trio drops onto a walkway along the side of the building and continues their sprint, once again following Sherlock who had the mental map. Out of the corner of her eye Adara can spot glimpses of the taxi as they rush down another metal staircase, onto a building ledge, and finally drop down into an alleyway before taking off once more.

As they ran, Sherlock's mind was calculating the approximate locations of themselves and the vehicle they were chasing. He led them through a series of back alleyways in effort to cut off the cab. However, he was losing a bit of steam from all the running. Turning a corner Sherlock spotted the taxi passing by the exit of the ally they were currently running down.

"Ah, no!" he snarls angrily at the near miss. Without pausing he sprints to the end of the ally and turns right, in the opposite direction the cab had taken.

"This way." he instructs. Adara chases after the man blindly but John instinctively chases after the taxi….turning to the left.

"No, this way" Sherlock calls after the man in exasperation. John quickly turns and follows the other two.

"Sorry." He sheepishly calls as they continue their chase. Sherlock quickly pinpoints a new spot to cross over with the taxi and he leads them towards it. They race down the sidewalks of London, John noting that while Sherlock tended to barrel through people Adara was much more nimble and simply darted around them with amazing reflexes. However, he didn't have much time to dwell on that as he continued chasing after them, apologizing on their behalf to the pedestrians in their way. Taking a shortcut the group runs down the street, through more alleys and side roads towards the intersection point. This time Sherlock, with an extra jolt of speed, bursts out of one of the side roads and hurls himself into the path of the taxi, causing it to screech to a halt as he slams his hands on the hood rather unceremoniously. Adara winced at the sight, knowing that there would be a bruise or two for that. Hurriedly reaching into his coat pocket Sherlock whips out an ID badge and flashes it to the driver as he approaches the right side.

"Police! Open her up!" he instructs, gasping for breath. Panting he tugs open the back door and stares at the passenger curiously. Adara smiles tightly at the anxious and confused passenger in the back to alleviate some of the tension. After a second of looking at him Sherlock straightens up in exasperation, taking a moment to notice that John had just joined them.

"No." he pouts, leaning down once more to take a second look at the passenger, as well as struggling to regain his breath.

"Teeth, tan..what, Californian?" he mutters, directing the last comment at the man in the back. The man stares at them silently, utter bafflement apparent on his face. Adara looked at the floor of the cab.

"L.A, Santa Monica. He just arrived." She pointed out the luggage tags on the man's suitcase.

"How can you possibly know that?" John inquires incredulously, having been standing behind them. Adara grins in amusement at his baffled expression before pointing the case and the white tags on it.

"The luggage." She explained lightly. John looks down, easily reading the information on the labels.

"It's probably your first trip to London, right? Going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?" Sherlock inquired, looking at the passenger who was becoming increasingly confused.

"He's taking the long route, might want to watch that." Adara added helpfully. The man frowned at the two of them.

"Sorry, are you guys the police?" he asked, his American accent further confirming their observations.

"Yeah," Sherlock nods, briefly flashing his badge.

"Everything alright?" Adara inquired with a pleasant smile.

"Yeah" the man nods in answer, smiling back at her. He glances over the group in amusement. Sherlock blanks as he stands there staring at the man, unsure of how to finish the conversation. Communication was never one of his strong suits. Adara places a hand on his arm, smiling at the man.

"Welcome to London." She offers, tugging Sherlock away before anything else could be said. John nods at the passenger uncomfortably.

"Uh…any problems just let us know." He adds with a wince before rushing after the other two once he shuts the cab door. He walks over and joins them near the end of the street behind the vehicle.

"Basically, just a cab that happened to slow down." John pointed out.

"Basically." Sherlock muttered sourly.

"Not the murderer." John continued.

"Not the murder, no." Sherlock confirmed in exasperation.

"Not him no, but something still doesn't sit right." Adara mused absently, eyeing the cab in frustration. Sherlock looked down at her thoughtfully but didn't comment. Usually there was something to her suspicions.

"Wrong country, good alibi." John continued.

"Fantastic alibi." Adara nodded in agreement. John glanced down at the ID still in Sherlock's hand.

"Hey, where…where did you get this? Here." He asks reaching for it.

"Right, Detective inspector Lestrade?" John asked with a curious grin as he reads over the name on the badge.

"I have Adara pick pocket him when he's annoying." Sherlock informed with a grin at the woman. John chuckled breathlessly.

"I would do it myself but he gets suspicious when I'm in his personal space." Sherlock adds offhandedly, as if to make sure John is aware that he can pickpocket just as well. John nods, bemused.

"You can keep that one, there's plenty more at his flat." Adara chimed in. John nodded before looking at the card again and giggling silently. Sherlock eyed the man curiously, lost as to what was so funny all of a sudden.

"What?" he inquires.

"Nothing just 'welcome to London'" John snickers. Sherlock chuckles, Adara rolling her eyes with an amused grin.

"Well at least it was better than staring at the man like this one." She quipped gesturing her head in the direction of Sherlock who huffed but the grin remained on his face. They look back over at the cab and notice the man talking with an actual police officer, and was pointing at them from the backseat of the cab.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asks, looking over at John.

"Ready when you are." John assures him before the three of them take off running down the road.

...

...

Back at 221B the group walked along the hallway, breathing heavily from their sprint. John takes the time to hang up his coat on the wall hooks while Sherlock merely slings his coat over the banister of the stairs. Adara seamlessly reaches over and picks it up to hang next to her own coat on the hangers.

"Okay that was ridiculous." John panted. He and Sherlock lean against the wall, still trying to catch their breath while Adara looks a bit more composed, standing opposite of them.

"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." He continues breathlessly.

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock pointed out. John begins snickering at that, leading Adara and Sherlock to join him, all of them still on an adrenaline high.

"That wasn't just me." John pointed out with a grin. Sherlock chuckled, setting a hand on his stomach as he fought for breath.

"Why aren't we back at the restaurant?" John asks. Sherlock sobered up and waved a hand.

"Oh they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway."

"So what were we doing there?" John inquires curiously. Sherlock cleared his throat innocently.

"Oh, just passing the time." He answered with a casual shrug.

"And proving a point." Adara adds, smiling over at the man knowingly. John glanced between the two of them in confusion.

"What point?"

"You." Sherlock answers before turning towards Mrs. Hudson's door.

"Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs!" Sherlock shouts. Adara scoffs and slaps him lightly on the shoulder.

"No need to shout in the flat." She scolds lightly.

"Says who?" John asked Sherlock with a curious grin. Sherlock glances at the front door.

"Says the man at the door." He hummed mysteriously. Almost instantly someone knocks on the door. John turns to look at Sherlock in surprise as the man smiles back triumphantly. Adara holds her hand out, gesturing for John go ahead. He stares at them in bewilderment for a moment before slowly making his way over to the door. As John turns away Sherlock lets out a breath, slumping against the wall. Adara smiles over at him softly.

"You had no clue he would be arriving at this moment did you?" she hums quietly, so John wouldn't overhear. Sherlock pursed his lips in offense.

"Of course I did." He huffs defensively. Adara rolled her eyes lightly, raising a brow at him.

"You got lucky." She corrected. Sherlock didn't counter her point, giving her the answer she needed. At the other end of the hall, John's eyes widened in surprise to find Angelo standing outside.

"Sherlock texted me." Was the man's explanation as he held up John's forgotten cane.

"He said you forgot this." Angelo added. John stares down at the cane in surprise, slowly reaching out to take it.

"Ah." Was the only thing he could muster up at the moment. He had run all over London, quite literally, and never once thought about using or needing the cane. John didn't even have a limp. Dumbly he turns to look down the hall at Sherlock and Adara who grin at him.

"Er, thank you. Thank you." John nods, turning back to Angelo. The large man nodded and gasped as if he remembered something before handing the small take out back he had been holding, to John.

"That's for miss Adara. Said she would be needing it later." Out of nowhere the woman herself appeared behind John and reached out to take the bag from him.

"Thank you Angelo." She smiles warmly at the man. Once Angelo had started off, John closed the door. As Adara walks back with her package in hand, Sherlock glowered at her.

"I don't eat while on a case." He instantly chastised, knowing her intent. John looked over at him in surprise, a bit startled by his harsh tone with her. Adara simply smiled back, un-phased by his tone.

"Yes, but the case will soon be over and then your body will have to function normally which means you will need food. Besides you and I both know you enjoy Angelo's cooking, despite how much you complain about going there." She coolly countered, effectively winning the argument if Sherlock's pout was anything to go by.

...

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson comes rushing out of her flat towards them in a frantic state.

"Sherlock, what have you done?" the older woman asks weepily. Sherlock frowns in confusion.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he asked gently.

"Upstairs." She gestures up towards the boy's flat. Sherlock quickly turns and rushes up the stairs, Adara and John hot on his heels. Inside he finds Lestrade casually sitting in one of the armchairs while other police officers are ransacking Sherlock's things. Sherlock storms over to the man in the chair, while Adara rushes off to try and prevent anyone from breaking anything sensitive.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks irritably.

"Well, I knew you had the case. I'm not stupid." Lestrade retorts pointedly.

"You can't just break into my flat."

"And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat." Lestrade counters easily.

"Well what do you call this then?" Sherlock asks incredulously throwing his arms out. Lestrade glances around at his officers, smirking as he spots Adara nearby squabbling with a few as she grabs Sherlock's things back from them with a glare.

"It's a drugs bust." He finally answers innocently. John snorts in disbelief, a grin on his face.

"Seriously? This guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?" John smiles incredulously. Sherlock quickly walks over to John, biting his lip nervously. Lestrade glances over to Sherlock, his lips quirking at the man's quick retreat.

"John.." Sherlock trails off quietly but John ignores his insistent tone.

"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational." John continues his defense.

"John, you probably want to shut up now." Sherlock lowly warns.

"Yeah, but come on…" John trails off as he locks eyes with Sherlock, his easy grin wavering as he realizes just how serious the taller man was.

"No."

"What?"

"You?"

"Shut up!" Sherlock snarled defensively, turning back to Lestrade.

"I'm not your sniffer dog." He points out.

"No, Anderson is my sniffer dog." Lestrade nods towards the kitchen.

"What An.." Sherlock trails off in confusion as he walks farther into the flat, spotting a bunch of people who weren't even detectives searching through his kitchen. Anderson turns and waves his fingers at Sherlock sarcastically. Over in the corner, Adara was snatching jars of Sherlock's experiments from people, snarling at anyone who dared to take them back from her.

"Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?" Sherlock snaps angrily.

"Oh I volunteered." The man sneered tauntingly. Sherlock clenched his jaw, teeth grinding in agitation.

"He found out the drug squad needed a new bitch to sniff out things and came to the realization that he fit the bill." Adara snarled from where she overheard the conversation. Anderson growled turning to face the infuriating woman, Sherlock's eyes glittered with venomous amusement before turning away to look at Lestrade angrily.

"They all did. They're not strictly speaking 'on' the drugs squad, but they're very keen." Lestrade shrugs innocently. Adara comes stalking from the kitchen to join them.

"This is low and petty Lestrade, and you know it." She growls at the man, who actually shrunk a little under her glare. Donovan came walking in to join them in the living room, holding a small glass jar.

"Are these human eyes?" she asks incredulously.

"Put those back!" Sherlock instructs sternly.

"They were in the microwave!"

"It's an experiment." Sherlock explained as if talking to an idiot, which in his mind he was.

"Keep looking guys." Lestrade instructs drolly, standing and turning towards Sherlock pointedly.

"Or you could start helping us properly and I'll stand them down." Instead Sherlock begins pacing, his body rigid as he fumed.

"This is childish." He spits out.

"Well I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?" Lestrade lectures, turning slightly as Sherlock continues to move back and forth.

"Lestrade this isn't your first time working together, you should have expected something like this. Yes, Sherlock should have told you about the case.." Sherlock went to comment but Adara held up her hand, her back still facing the man as she knew he would have something to say. Sherlock remained quiet.

"..but at the same time his negligence is no reason to bring in a pretend drugs bust to bully him" she finished sternly.

"It stops being pretend if they find anything." Lestrade pointed out seriously. Adara's eyes flashed dangerously.

"He's clean! Stop holding that over his head!" she snarled, taking a step towards the man. Deep down she knew it was because Lestrade cared but this was going a bit too far. Sherlock quickly stepped forward to intercept her, tugging her gently under his arm.

"Is your flat?" Lestrade inquired, looking up at the man himself, this time much more subdued and less accusing.

"I don't even smoke." Sherlock pointed out, still holding Adara tightly against him as she calmed down. As if to prove his point, he unwraps his arm from Adara to un-cuff his left shirt sleeve and roll it up high enough to show Lestrade his nicotine patch.

"Neither do I." Lestrade chimed in, rolling up his own shirt sleeve to show off his similar patch. Sherlock rolled his eyes, the two men putting their sleeves back in order.

"So let's work together. We've found Rachel." Lestrade began, much more civil than earlier now that they were on the same page. Instantly Sherlock's attention was grabbed, his head whipping around to stare at Lestrade.

"Who's she?" he inquired intently.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter." Sherlock frowned.

"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" he mutters thoughtfully.

"Never mind that. We found the case." Anderson rudely butts in, pointing to the open case on the chair. Adara clapped sarcastically.

"Well done Anderson, you found the case that Sherlock already discovered. What would we do without you?" she deadpanned. Anderson sneered at her.

"According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath." He continued pointedly.

"I'm not a psychopath"

"He's not a psychopath" Adara and Sherlock retorted sternly at the same time.

"He's a high functioning sociopath, do your research." Adara continues tightly.

"You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her." Sherlock rapidly instructed.

"She's dead." Lestrade deadpanned.

"Excellent! How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be." Sherlock rambled eagerly, startling John as he watched the interaction silently.

"Well I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years" Lestrade began, causing Sherlock to pause.

"Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." he explained gently. John frowned sadly; Sherlock however stares at him in confusion.

"No, that's….that's not right. How…..Why would she do that? Why?" Sherlock rambled confusedly as he tried to get the solution.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?! Yup, sociopath; I'm seeing it now." Anderson droned sarcastically.

"Oh come on, Anderson try to use your brain for once! It was more than just thinking about her daughter." Adara corrected him in exasperation while Sherlock buzzed nearby, desperately trying to get the answer.

"She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort and it would have really hurt." She listed off while Sherlock paced behind her.

"You said the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he….I don't know talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow?" John suggested.

"That's not bad John." Adara nodded with a small grin of approval. John smiled back at her, glad he could contribute some ideas with the two brilliant minds in the room. Sherlock stopped his pacing and turned to him in confusion.

"Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" Sherlock questioned aloud. The entire room went silent as everyone stared at the man incredulously. Sherlock took notice and glanced around awkwardly before glancing towards Adara and John who had pursed their lips in displeasure.

"Not good?" he asked them. John glanced around at the group.

"Bit not good yea." He confirmed in a 'duh' tone.

"Very not good, Sherlock. After all there are still some things that happened a few years ago that you still aren't over." Adara whispered pointedly, trying to put him in perspective. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

"That is not on trial right now and I'm not talking about it." He hissed back, John's eyes widening in interest as he was the only one close enough to hear them. Instead Sherlock turned to look at John intently.

"If you were dying….if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?" he inquired seriously.

"Please God let me live." John told him honestly. Sherlock scoffed in exasperation.

"Oh, use your imagination." John stared at him blankly.

"I don't have to." He deadpanned. Sherlock stared at him for a moment longer before wincing apologetically, shifting on his feet. Still a tender subject.

"Yea, but if you were clever, really clever….Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever." Sherlock continued questioning, pacing the floor. He whipped around, facing Adara.

"You've been there before. You're clever. What would you say in your dying moments?" Everyone in the room looked to the woman curiously. None of them were familiar with her life before she met them, but hearing about her being in a life or death situation before threw them off guard. John stared at her as she thought carefully, seeing her in a new light. What had she been doing before? When was 'before'? Adara ignored the stares as she locked eyes with Sherlock.

"I would leave some message for you to figure out. To find my killer." She answered honestly. Sherlock's lip quirked up. He would never admit it but he was touched that she would leave something for him specifically, for HIM to figure out the message and find her killer. Of course he would insist on being part of the case if…heaven forbid…she were ever killed. Before his mind could wander off into dark thoughts, he latched onto key words she had used.

"She's trying to tell us something." He mused, thinking back on what Adara had said. Before he could continue on that thought path, Mrs. Hudson joined them in the living room.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock." She informed.

"I didn't order a taxi, go away." Sherlock snapped, waving her off as he became more and more pent up. He continues to pace as Mrs. Hudson does the opposite and comes further into the room, staring at the mess.

"Oh dear, they're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" she inquired.

"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson." John answered.

"But they're for my hip. They're herbal soothers." Mrs. Hudson rambled anxiously, her eyes flitting around to all the officers in the room.

"Shut up! Everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off." Sherlock suddenly shouted, having had enough of all the idle chatter that was interrupting his thought pattern.

"What? My face is?!" Anderson sputtered indignantly.

"Oi! Everyone shut up and stand still. Anderson turn around." Adara reiterated over him, sending the man a pointed glare.

"Oh, for god's sake." He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Turn your back now, please." Lestrade insisted sternly. Anderson reluctantly turned around, grumbling under his breath. Now that it was silent, Sherlock began muttering under his breath, sorting out his thoughts.

"Come on, think. Quick!" he muttered.

"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson piped up, ignoring Sherlock's request.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock roared, whipping around the glare at the landlady. The older woman jumped a little and quickly hurried back down the stairs. As he calmed down, he looks over at Adara who is watching him quietly and it suddenly hits him.

"Oh.." he whispers, breathlessly as the light bulb clicks on in his mind. A large delighted grin breaks out across his face.

"Ah, she was clever, clever yes!" he practically prances around the room while everyone watches him with interest. He turns back around to the others, beaming.

"She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him." he explained excitedly, only Adara's eyes lighting up with understanding. He began pacing again.

"When she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" Lestrade inquired. Sherlock paused and stared at him in confusion.

"Wha…what do you mean how?" he asked, bewildered. Lestrade shrugged.

"Rachel!" Sherlock declared, looking around triumphantly. However, all he received were blank stares from all but Adara.

"Don't you see? Rachel!" he declared again. Still the same result. Sherlock laughed in disbelief.

"Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." He mused humorlessly. Adara cleared her throat, getting his attention.

"Maybe some added explanation would be helpful? More than just shouting the name?" she suggested with a grin. Sherlock rolled his eyes. The obnoxious lengths he had to go through for these simpletons.

"Rachel is not a name." Sherlock explained sternly...


	7. The Cabbie

_"Rachel is not a name." Sherlock explained sternly..._

...

"Then what is it?" John asked tightly, just wanting to get to the point that obviously they were all missing.

"John, on the luggage there's a label. E-mail address." He instructed, John leaning over in his chair to look.

"Eh… .uk" John read off for him as Sherlock had placed himself by the laptop on the table.

"Oh, I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smartphone, it's email enabled." Sherlock elaborated aloud. On the laptop he had pulled up MePhone's website and typed in the email address.

"So there's a website for her account, her username is her email address…." He explained as he typed.

"….and all together now, the password is?" he muttered, typing in the password.

"Rachel." John realized, coming over to stand behind him.

"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson deadpanned. Adara rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." Sherlock snapped instantly, his lips quirking as he heard a quiet snort of amusement from beside him. Shooting Adara a small smile he continued his explanation.

"We can do much more than read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us to directly to the man who killed her." he elaborated.

"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade pointed out.

"We know he didn't." Adara cut in. Meanwhile Sherlock was glaring at the screen, willing the GPS locator to go faster.

"Come on, come on. Quickly!" he snapped irritably. Mrs. Hudson frantically rushed back up the stairs.

"Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver…." She timidly insists once more. The man stands and turns towards her.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" he asked pointedly. John takes Sherlock's place at the desk, watching as the screen indicated that the phone would be located in 3 minutes. Sherlock turns to Lestrade.

"We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter." He begins ordering. Mrs. Hudson anxiously glances behind her as a man slowly makes his way up the stairs. Adara glances out the window, freezing as she catches sight of a familiar taxi. Her mind whirling as she tries to place where she had seen that cab number. Sherlock continues barking orders, ignoring everything else around him.

"We're gonna have to move fast, the phone battery won't last forever." He adds urgently.

"We'll just have a map reference not a name." Lestrade counters pointedly.

"It's a start." Sherlock huffed irritably. John frowns at the screen as the map begins zooming in, narrowing down the location.

"Sherlock.." he mutters, not looking away from the computer. His call is ignored.

"It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead that we've had." Sherlock continues to argue with Lestrade.

"Sherlock…" this time hearing his name, Sherlock hurries to look over John's shoulder.

"What is it? Quickly, where?" he rapidly questions.

"It's here. Its in 221 Baker Street." John answered with a frown. Sherlock straightens back up, blinking in confusion. That was not the answer he was expecting.

"How can it be here? How?" he mutters.

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade suggested.

"What, and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice?" Sherlock asks incredulously. John turns to Lestrade.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back." He added in Sherlock's defense. With a sigh Lestrade turns to face the rest of the officers in the flat.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim…" he lists off while Sherlock tunes him out, his mind reeling with questions.

**_Who do you trust, even if you don't know them?_**

**_Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? _**

**_Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?_**

As his mind frantically scrambles for the answer a hand on his forearm catches his attention. Following the path from the hand to the owner, Sherlock looked up to see Adara staring out the window intently. Obeying her silent command, he steps closer, following her line of sight.

"Sherlock…that's the cab from the ally…." She whispers in realization. His eyes suddenly clear up. Not even doubting if she was correct, with her photographic memory she always was, he put that last puzzle piece into his case findings. Now it all made sense. The cabbie…no one second guesses their arrival, no one thinks twice about getting into a car with them, they take people in broad daylight without a second thought. The duo turns slightly, spotting a hidden figure in the dark landing behind Mrs. Hudson. Eyeing the alarmingly pink smartphone he pulls out of his pocket, they watch as the man presses a button on the screen. Sherlock's phone pings seconds later. Slipping his own mobile out he holds the screen up so she can see it as well.

**COME WITH ME**

Calmly the cabbie turns and walks back down the stairs.

"Sherlock you ok?" John's voice cuts in. Sherlock blinks owlishly, still watching he man disappear down the stairs.

"What? Yea, yeah. I..I'm fine." he dismisses distractedly. John misses the tone.

"So, how can the phone be here?" he asks curiously.

"Dunno." Sherlock hums, still staring at the now empty space.

"I'll try it again." John suggests, standing to pull his own phone out.

"Good idea." Sherlock absently nods as he heads towards the door. Adara's eyes widen and she quickly trails after him. As he reaches for his coat Adara grabs his arm, halting his movements. His eyes zero in on her, giving her his full attention.

"Sherlock don't do anything stupid." She warns, her eyes portraying her worry. She knew him well enough to know that he couldn't resist a tempting and intriguing situation as this one.

"I'll be fine. Just a chat." He assured. However, Adara narrowed her eyes, obviously not believing him.

"You have 10 minutes then I'm coming after you." She warned sternly, leaving no room for him to argue. Nodding minutely, Sherlock heads towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" John calls, catching sight of him.

"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment, won't be long." Sherlock explains breezily. John eyes him with a frown, finally picking up that his speech pattern and mannerisms were a bit off.

"You sure you're all right?" he asks once more, not liking the man's sudden aloofness.

"I'm fine." is the answer as the tall man dashes down the stairs.

...

Downstairs, Sherlock opens the front door taking a moment to shrug on his coat. Across from him, the taxi driver is leaning casually against his cab parked on the curb.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes." He casually announces. Sherlock closes the door behind him, taking a tentative step forward.

"I didn't order a taxi." He points out.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one." The man counters.

"You're the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland street." Sherlock points out, careful to leave out that Adara had been the one to realize it. No need to bring her to his attention.

"It was you, not your passenger." He continues, filling in the pieces.

"See? No one ever things about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer." The man elaborates calmly. Sherlock steps closer to the man before glancing up towards the windows of his flat, knowing Adara would be watching him yet out of sight from those on the road.

"Is this a confession?" Sherlock inquires, curious as to why the man is casually telling him that he was the serial killer.

"Oh, yeah. An I'll tell you what else, if you call the coppers now I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise." The man assures. Sherlock narrows his eyes.

"Why?"

"Cause you're not gonna do that." The man shrugs.

"Am I not?" Sherlock retorts curiously.

"I didn't kill those four people Mr. 'olmes. I spoke to em….. and they killed themselves. An if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing." The man elaborates as he leans forward.

"I will never tell you what I said." He whispers ominously. Sherlock stares hard at the man, desperate to know what was said but trying to keep his emotions schooled. The cabbie straightens up and walks around to the other side of the cab.

"No-one else will die though, and I believe that they call that a result." Sherlock counters, trying to talk himself out of following the man. He can practically hear Adara in the back of his mind, scolding him for even considering going along with this obvious trap. The cabbie pauses, turning to look at the tall man.

"An you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?" he taunted, getting into the driver's seat. Sherlock bites his lip, his body trying to go against what his mind was screaming at him to investigate. He glanced back up at the window once more, already feeling Adara's stare burning into the back of his head. Walking even closer to the cab he leans in looking at the man through the passenger window. No harm done yet, he wasn't even touching the car.

"If I wanted to understand, what would I do?" Sherlock inquired, rationalizing that there was no harm in asking. The cabbie turned to look at him, knowing he had the man hooked.

"Let me take you for a ride."

"So you can kill me too?" Sherlock shot back, knowing that there was no good intention behind the man's taunting.

"I don't wanna kill you mister 'olmes. I'm gonna talk to ya…. And then you're gonna kill yourself." He coolly corrected before facing ahead. Sherlock straightens back up, his internal battle raging as he decides what the next course of action should be. Adara would be disappointed that he gave in so easily….yet at the same time he knew she would come for him should he continue to do anything stupid…so he was totally safe anyway right? Continuing to rationalize his brash decision, Sherlock slid into the backseat ignoring the cabbie's satisfied grin.

...

Up in the flat, John glances up as Adara spat out a curse under her breath as she glared out the window. Taking note that she had been watching out the window for a while now, he walked over and stood next to her, frowning as Sherlock took off in a cab.

"He just got in a cab." John blurted out, turning to Lestrade and getting their attention.

"It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab." He reiterated. Donavan huffed irritably from beside Lestrade.

"I told you, he does that." She muttered before turning to her boss.

"He bloody left again." She growled in annoyance and began barking orders to the others in the flat.

"I'm calling the phone. Its ringing out." John informed, eyeing Adara as she kept glancing down at her watch anxiously as if waiting for something. Lestrade waited patiently as John remained on the line, though no one was picking up.

"If its ringing it's not here." Lestrade pointed out the lack of noise in the flat.

"Of course it's not." Adara imputed, her eyes flitting to her watch once more.

"John check the search again." She politely suggested, walking over to grab her own coat. John nodded before setting down his cell and pulling up the search on his laptop.

"Does it matter? Does any of it? You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down and your wasting your time. All our time." Donovan fumes at Lestrade. The man held her gave for a moment before sighing.

"Okay everybody, done here." He informs the rest of the officers reluctantly. As the people begin filing out Adara grabs Lestrade gently by the elbow, getting his attention.

"Don't believe that. Give him some time, you know he comes through." She reminded him quietly. Lestrade nodded.

"Why can't he do it on time, and like everybody else." He whispered almost in a pout. Adara chuckled.

"What fun would that be." She retorted jokingly.

...

In the cab Sherlock glances out the window, watching London scenery as he passes taking note of where they were headed to. He took a moment to glance at the watch on his wrist before speaking up.

"How did you find me?" he inquires.

"Oh I recognized ya, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock Holmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website too. Brilliant stuff, loved it!" the man prattled. Sherlock narrowed his eyes skeptically. He filed away that he made no mention of Adara or John who had been with him. That was good. The man and apparently others knowing about him, not so much.

"Who warned you about me?" he asked.

"Just someone out there who's noticed you." Sherlock's brow furrowed curiously at the evasion of the question. Leaning forward Sherlock quickly took note of the photograph on the man's dash. A photo of two children. As well as a spot of shaving cream behind the man's ear.

"Who would notice me?" he inquired quietly. The cabbie met his eyes in the rear mirror.

"You're too modest, Mr. 'olmes." Sherlock scoffed.

"I'm really not, and I have others who would collaborate that" he pointed out, knowing Adara would be the first in line to negate that comment. At least he could depend on her to be honest with him, whether or not he liked the answer.

"You've got yourself a fan." The cabbie elaborated.

"Tell me more." Sherlock requested, leaning back into his seat.

"That's all you're gonna know…. In this lifetime." The cabbie countered quietly.

...

Back at the flat as the others began leaving Lestrade grabbed his coat before turning to John and Adar.

"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" he inquired in exasperation. John shrugged.

"You know him better than I do."

"I've known him for 5 years and no, I don't." Lestrade countered in disappointment. The two men turned to Adara, who undoubtedly knew him the best.

"Don't look at me for this one. I am currently questioning his intelligence." She dismissed. Of course, she knew why he had gone into the damn cab. Sometimes his need to know everything was infuriating and she genuinely thought he was a stupid man at times. This was one of those times.

"So why do you put up with him?" John inquired, looking to Lestrade.

"Because I'm desperate that's why." He shrugged tiredly as he began heading to the door.

"And…" Adara prompted with a smug grin. Lestrade sighed, turning back to face them, ignoring the knowing look she was giving him.

"And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." He added.

"He is a good one Greg. He just doesn't like to flaunt that side of him around others." Adara assured the man. Lestrade nodded and turned to head out of the flat.

...

Across town the cab pulled up to a set of identical buildings. The cabbie turns off the engine, getting out to open the passenger door for Sherlock.

"Where are we?" he inquires.

"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are." The man counters knowingly.

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?" Sherlock pressed.

"It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie, you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out." the man informed.

"And you just walk your victims in? How?" Sherlock frowned, taking note that the man hadn't made any attempt to force him and the victims had no form of defensive marks. As an answer to his question the man lifts up a pistol, pointing it at Sherlock who rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, dull." He mutters in disappointment.

"Don't worry. It gets better." The man assured.

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint." Sherlock points out, pursing his lips in disappointment.

"I don't. It's much better than that." He counters, lowering the gun and gaining Sherlock's interest once again.

"Don't need this with you, cause you'll follow me." The cabbie informed, boldly walking away without looking back. Sherlock sat in the cab for a moment grimacing at the internal struggle that was going on. He could just sit there, call Adara or Lestrade and be done with the whole thing. Then again, he would never know how it all happened. With a groan at his own lack of self-control he gets out of the cab, following the man as was predicted.


	8. Which Bottle?

Back at the flat John paced as Adara stood by the door as if waiting for some cue. Seeing as he doesn't live there quite yet he makes his way towards the door, intending to head towards his old flat.

"Where are you going" Adara quickly asked. John clenches his fist, glancing down and noticing that he didn't have his cane.

"I'm heading home." He answers tiredly, obviously still distracted by everything that had just happened. Glancing around he spots his cane atop a pile of papers on the table.

"Why?" John frowns, staring at her in confusion once he had grabbed his cane. He glanced around the empty flat.

"Because there's nothing to stay for. Everyone is gone." He points out.

"You and I both know that the day isn't over." She quickly corrects. John pursed his lips, eyeing her attire which told him she was ready to head out the door.

"Do we both know that? Obviously I am missing something." He gestured towards her coat. Adara smirked.

"Just give it a moment." she assured knowingly. John continued to eye her, finding it a bit eerie that she seemingly knew something was about to happen.

"Wait for wh…." His sentence was cut off as Sherlock's laptop dinged from the desk. John's head whipped around and made his way over to the desk, propping his cane on the side of it. Picking up the small laptop he scanned the GPS on the screen, pinpointing the location of Jennifer Wilson's phone.

"Well come on then." Adara ushered from her spot at the door. Taking the hint John quickly followed after her, laptop in hand as they bounded down the stairs.

...

...

At the college the cabbie opened the door to a room and holds it open for Sherlock to enter in first. Sherlock eyes the man curiously before stepping inside the dark room. The man lets the door swing closed while he walks over and flicks on some lights to reveal a large lecture hall with multiple rows of desks and chairs. Sherlock slowly walks deeper into the room, glancing around in disinterest.

"Well what do you think?" the man speaks up. Sherlock shrugs, showing that he isn't sure what is being asked. Think about what?

"It's up to you. You're the one who's gonna die here." The man elaborated. Sherlock turned back around towards him.

"No, I'm not." He countered confidently.

"That's what they all say." The man dismisses. He holds out a hand, gesturing towards the tables.

"Shall we talk?" Without waiting he grabs a nearby chair and sits down at a table. Sherlock mimics the action, sitting across from him. After a beat Sherlock let out a dramatic sigh before pocketing his gloves.

"Bit risky isn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And my colleagues would remember you." Sherlock warned lightly.

"You call that a risk? Nah" the cabbie dismissed easily. He reaches into the pocket of his cardigan, pulling out a small glass bottle.

"This is a risk." He points out, setting the bottle onto the table in front of him, letting Sherlock get a look at the large pill capsule inside. Sherlock merely stares at it for a moment, not showing any outward sign of reaction.

"Ooh I like this bit. Cause you don't get it yet, do ya?" Sherlock's eyes flit up curiously.

"But you're about to. I just have to do this." the man reaches into his other pocket, revealing an identical bottle and capsule. He sets it next to the other on the table.

"You weren't expecting that, were ya? Oh and you're going to love this." the cabbie goads, leaning towards Sherlock.

"Love what?"

"Sherlock 'olmes. Look at you! Here in the flesh. That website of yours, your fan told me about it." He comments, ignoring Sherlock's question. Sherlock frowned.

"My fan?" Sherlock sighed tiredly, this being the second time a 'fan' was brought up but not addressed.

"You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. _The Science of Deduction,_ now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting here, why can't people think?" the man grumbles angrily.

"Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?" he reiterates. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the man. Why would this man be seemingly upset over normal people's lack of intelligence and the ability of basic thought. Sherlock suddenly rolled his eyes as he made a realization.

"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius, too." He mused, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Don't look it do I? Funny little man driving a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know." Sherlock eyed the man for a minute longer before looking down at the bottles, deciding he would go along with this.

"Okay, two bottles. Explain."

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the bill from the good bottle, you live. Take a pill from the bad bottle, you die." The cabbie explained.

"Both bottles are of course identical." Sherlock noted.

"In every way."

"And you know which is which."

"Course I know."

"But I don't."

"Wouldn't be the same if you knew. You're the one who chooses." The man nodded.

"Why should i? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?" Sherlock inquired with a shrug.

"I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one. And then together we take our medicine." The cabbie explained in full. Sherlock grinned, his interest officially gained. Now this was delightful.

"I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't." the man assured. Sherlock looked down at the bottles, focusing his attention on them.

"Didn't expect that, did you Mr. Holmes?"

"This is what you did the rest of them. You gave them a choice." Sherlock pointed out, deflecting the question.

"And now I'm giving you one." Sherlock glanced up at him.

"You take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game." The man nodded. Sherlock stared at him cooly.

"It's not a game. It's chance."

"I've played four times. I'm alive. Its not chance, Mr. Holmes. Its chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this….this…is the move." The man explained just before sliding the left bottle towards Sherlock.

"Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one." Sherlock remained stationary, the only movement was his eyes flitting down to look at the bottles in thought.

...

In the back of a taxi, Adara stared down at the map on Sherlock's laptop while John is on the phone with Scotland Yard.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him. It's important. It's an emergency!" Adara sighed anxiously, her fingers pinching her lower lip.

"Left here please." She pointed out to the cab driver.

...

The cabbie looks down at the bottles before looking back up at Sherlock.

"You ready yet, Mr. Holmes? Ready to play?" he inquired.

"Play what? It's a 50-50 chance." Sherlock rebutted stubbornly.

"You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double bluff? Or a triple bluff?" the man continued, wanting Sherlock to take the bait.

"Still just a chance." Sherlock continued to argue.

"Four people in a row? It's not just chance."

"Luck"

"It's genius. I know 'ow people think." The man preened. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I know how people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my head." Now he was just making stuff up, Sherlock stared at the man in exasperation. There were only 2….reluctantly 3…. people he had ever known who could do something like that, and he was one of them.

"Everyone's so stupid, even you." The man taunted. Sherlock's gaze hardened every so slightly at the insult.

"Or maybe god just loves me." Sherlock straightened up and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table.

"Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie." He mused.

...

John and Adara arrived at Roland-Kerr college. As the taxi pulled away Adara hands the laptop to John who tucks the small device into his jacket pocket. They both glance between the identical buildings. The signal only let them to the general location, the rest was up to them. Adara quickly scanned the ground, hoping to find something of use.

"I'll take the left, you go right." She ordered, not waiting for an answer before taking off. John paused at the authority in her voice that he hadn't heard from her before. Blinking he quickly took off towards the opposite building.

...

Back in the room, Sherlock interlocked his fingers, pressing them against his lips in contemplation.

"So you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" he inquired, staring at the man intently. Instead the cabbie nods to the bottles.

"Time to play." He insists.

"Oh I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. Traces of where its happened before, so obviously you live on your own. There's no one to tell you." Sherlock begins, watching the man desperately try not to fidget.

"But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died she still be there." He continued on, remembering what Adara had once shared with him about sentiment.

"The photograph's old but the frame's new. You think of your children, but you don't get to see them. Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them, and it still hurts." He pointed out. after a pause he extends his pointer finger towards the cabbie.

"Ah, but there's more. Your clothes; recently laundered but everything you're wearing is at least…three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?" the man eventually regains his cool demeanor as he stares back at Sherlock, who's eyes widen as he comes to another realization.

"Ah… three years ago. Is that when they told you?" he muses softly.

"Told me what?" the man deadpanned. A single word flitted across Sherlock's brain.

**DYING**.

"That you're a dead man walking." He answered.

"So are you." The cabbie deflects.

"You don't have long though. Am I right?" Sherlock presses on. The cabbie grins wryly.

"Aneurysm. Right in here." He tapped his finger against the side of his head. At this Sherlock's lips quirked upward, knowing he was right.

"Any breath could be my last." The man adds. At that Sherlock frowns thoughtfully.

"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people." He points out.

"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can have on an aneurysm." The man corrected. Sherlock tilted his head in thought. There was more to this, something else made more sense.

"No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because your bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children." Sherlock points out thoughtfully. The cabbie glanced away before looking back at Sherlock.

"You are good, ain't you?"

"How?"

"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs."

"Or serial killing" Sherlock cuts in.

"You'd be surprised." The cabbie countered.

"Surprise me." Sherlock insists. The man leaned forward.

"I have a sponsor." He whispered.

"You have a what?"

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? Its nicer than you think." Sherlock frowned.

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" he mused aloud.

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock Holmes." The man pointed out. They both sit in silence, letting the implications sink in.

"You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man….and they're so much more than that." Sherlock's face twitches in distaste at the insult. He knew there was a likelihood of someone else being like him, but he had assumed he had already found her. And the use of the word 'they', caught his attention.

"What do you mean, more than a man? An organization? What?" he pushed.

"There's a name no one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter." The man shuts down the conversation, nodding to the bottles between them.

"Time to choose." Sherlock stares down at the bottles, eyes flitting from one to another. Shouldn't Adara have been here by now?

...

Meanwhile John was rushing about shouting for Sherlock in the empty corridors of the college. Peering through windows and tugging on doors he continued to come up empty. All the while Adara was making her way through the other building, being much more silent as she followed the subtle clues that had been left for her.

...

"What if I don't choose either? I could just walk out of here." Sherlock pointed out. The cabbie sighed tiredly and lifts the pistol to point it at Sherlock.

"You can take your 50-50 chance, or I can shoot you in the head. funnily enough, no one's every gone for that option." The man deadpanned. Sherlock grinned.

"I'll have the gun, please." He requested.

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely. The gun."

"You don't want to phone a friend?"

"The gun." Sherlock insisted, the small grin never leaving his face. The cabbie frowned tightly and slowly squeezed the trigger. However, all that happened was a small flame appearing at the end of the muzzle. Sherlock's grin turned smug.

"I know a real gun when I see one." He gloated. The cabbie calmly closed the lighter and put the gun away.

"None of the others did." He mused.

"Clearly" Sherlock, pursed his lips. He was done with all of this now that he got the answers he wanted.

"Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case." Sherlock announced breezily as he stood and headed towards the door.

"Just before you go did you figure it out.." this caused Sherlock to pause, half turning back towards the man.

"…which ones the good bottle?" he finished his inquiry.

"Of course. Child's play." Sherlock scoffed.

"Well, which one, then?" the man insisted. Sherlock stepped away from the door, once more being sucked back into the conversation. The cabbie chuckled at how weak willed the man could be.

"Come on. Play the game." He insisted. Sherlock slowly made his way back towards the table, swiping up the bottle closest to the cabbie. The man looks down at the bottle left on the table with interest, his voice giving away nothing.

"Oh, interesting." He hummed. Ignoring the man, Sherlock lifts his bottle up to the light, examining the capsule inside.

"So what do you think?" the man asked looking up at Sherlock.

"Shall we?" he queried, holding up the pill in his hands.

"Really…what do you think? Can you beat me?" he continued, standing and facing the taller man head on in challenge.

"Are you clever enough to bet your life?"

...

John suddenly burst through the door and stared ahead of him in horror. Sherlock was across the alleyway in the other building, holding up the bottle. He frantically raced to the window, trying to get a better view into the room. Adara wasn't there yet. No one was around to stop Sherlock.

...

However, Adara had found her way into the room through a back entrance and was watching intently from behind a bookshelf, out of view from those in the room.

"I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you…." The cabbie taunted. Sherlock clenches his jaw as he unscrews the lid.

"…so clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it?" he continued while Sherlock held the capsule under the light with no bottle in the way this time. Adara's eyes widen in exasperation. Was he really going to take it?

"Still the addict." The cabbie coos demeaningly as Sherlock lowers the pill to eye level.

"But this…this is what you're really addicted to innit? You'd do anything…anything at all…to stop being bored" Sherlock's hands trembled with excitement as the adrenaline rush kicks in. Seeing that he was struggling to resist, Adara slowly reaches down, finding her ankle holster. Slowly he begins to lower the pill towards his own mouth, the cabbie matching the movement. Adara quickly starts making her way towards the duo.

"You're not bored now, are you?...innit good?" before either could put the capsule in their mouth a gunshot rang out, striking the cabbie on the left side of his chest. As the man was bowled over from the impact of the shot Adara dashed into view, quickly glancing back over her shoulder to spot the man in the other building. Sherlock glanced back in surprise to see her heading towards them.

"What…"

"That wasn't me." She quickly dismissed, her eyes never leaving the trembling man on the floor.

"I wasn't…"

"We'll discuss it later." She again shut him down with a hard glare, causing the man to shrink away a bit. Snatching up the pill he had dropped, Sherlock knelt down and held it out to the man who was slowly bleeding out on the floor.

"Was I right?" the cabbie turns away, still in shock from the shot.

"I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?" Sherlock persists.

"Not the time to worry about if you were damn right." Adara growled, yanking the pill out of his hand and tossing it across the room. Sherlock nodded numbly, realizing she was right. They only had a few moments left.

"Okay, tell me this. Your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me, my fan. I want a name." he quickly inquired. Adara glanced at him in surprise. Someone else was behind all this? Someone else was the mastermind for the serial killings and nearly pushing Sherlock to take the blasted pill too. Adara glared heatedly at the man on the floor. The cabbie weakly shook his head.

"No."

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give us a name." Adara cut in, the normal warmth in her eyes nonexistent as she glared down at the man. Sherlock watched her warily but didn't hinder her. The cabbie continued to shake his head. With a snarl Adara pressed down on the man's wounded shoulder, eliciting a gasp of pain from him.

"A name." she insisted, the cabbie crying out in pain as she increased the pressure.

"Now." She growled her last warning. Whimpering the man continued to resist. With one last heave Adara pressed all her weight on the man.

"THE NAME!" she demanded menacingly.

"MORIARTY!" the man cried before falling limp under her boot. Adara stepped off him, reaching a hand up to smooth down her hair, her chest heaving. Giving her a moment to calm, Sherlock reached out towards her, running a gentle hand along her back as her aggression died off.

"Sound familiar?" he quietly inquired, staring at the door thoughtfully. Adara bit the inside of her lip, her mind racing as she tried to place the name.

"Nothing….but give me some time." She hummed, looking up at him. Sherlock nodded. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could, Adara had left his reach and was marching out the door. Sherlock sighed heavily... She was pissed.


	9. Realizations

Outside the college, Sherlock was sitting in the back of an ambulance while officers flitted about. He frowned as a large orange blanket was placed on his shoulders, one that they continued to place around him even after he had thrown it off multiple times. Adara grinned as she and Lestrade made their way over towards him, after Lestrade had gotten her statement.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me." Sherlock questioned, looking up at them in utter confusion.

"Yea, it's for shock." Lestrade informed him.

"I'm not in shock." Sherlock complained instantly.

"Yeah but some of the guys wanna take photographs." Lestrade quipped.

"I know I do." Adara snickered, lifting her phone up to snap a picture of the man. Sherlock scowled at her but couldn't hold the expression for long. He minutely grinned at her before looking back over at Lestrade who was watching them with interest. It wasn't often he saw Sherlock like this so it was always refreshing to see some human qualities in the man.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Adara cut her eyes over at Sherlock tensely but he paid no attention.

"Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies I suppose. One of them could have been following him but, got nothing to go on." Lestrade shrugged. Sherlock looked over at the man pointedly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." He hummed. Lestrade rolled his eyes, knowing he was about to get a whole list. He nodded, mentally preparing for the onslaught of facts he was about to get thrown.

"Okay, gimme." He relented. Adara subtly tried to get Sherlock's attention as he stood, but again was ignored.

"The bullet they dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon…..that's a crack shot you're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with military service, nerves of steel…." Sherlock cut himself off with a small yelp as he felt a harsh pinch on the back of his arm. He glared back at Adara, but her eyes weren't looking at him. Sherlock subtly followed her line of sight and spotted a familiar face watching them calmly from the other side of the police tape. Finally it clicked. John looked over at the duo innocently, as if knowing they were watching him. Lestrade glanced back at Sherlock, realizing he had trailed off.

"Actually, you know what? Ignore me." He told Lestrade who nearly balked at the request.

"Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the uh….shock talking." He muttered, leading the way towards John.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade called after him.

"I just need to talk about the…"

"The rent." Adara finished for him, taking on the role of doting partner. Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"But I've still got questions for you." Lestrade insisted, stumbling after the pair. Sherlock spun around in exasperation.

"Oh what now? I'm in shock, look I've got a blanket!" he weakly insisted, waving the edges at the man.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade scolded, crossing his arms pointedly.

"Greg he just caught a serial killer….sort of." Adara pointed out gently. At this Lestrade softened, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

"Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go." He dismissed them. Sherlock quickly walked away, towards the edge of the marked off area. Adara looked back at Lestrade as they passed, blinking innocently while he grinned. Lestrade knew he wasn't going to get the real story now.

...

Sliding the blanket off his shoulders, Sherlock bundled it up and tossed it through the open window of the squad car John was leaning against.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything. The two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful." John absently muttered, trying to come off as normal as possible. Adara grinned at how much he was trying to cover it up. Sherlock simply stared at John, readjusting his coat and sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Good shot." He complimented quietly. John sputtered, trying to continue his innocent act.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." He nodded.

"Well, you'd know." Sherlock continued, being sure to keep his voice low. John continued to gaze up at the man, blinking innocently before narrowing his eyes at their female companion.

"You told him didn't you. You had to have." He accused lightly. Adara shook her head.

"I didn't say a word." She insisted with an impish grin. John gave her a deadpan stare, not believing that for a moment. She gently reached over and grabbed at his hand.

"You need to get the power burns off your fingers. I don't think you'd serve time for this, but it would be nice to avoid the court case." She hummed, looking over the markings on his hand. John blushed and quickly tucked it into his coat pocket, looking around at all the officers in the area.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock inquired sincerely.

"Yes, of course I'm alright."

"Well you have just killed a man."

"Yes I…." John trailed off nervously, the other two watching him closely.

"That's true, innit?" he smiled lightly.

"But he wasn't a very nice man." Adara pointed out gently. John chuckled, assuring the duo that he really was OK.

"No. no, he wasn't really was he?" Sherlock added with a nod.

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." John jumped in. The three of them snickered as they began making their way back down the street.

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here." Sherlock grinned, getting a giggle out of John and Adara.

"Stop it, we can't giggle at a crime scene. It's not right." Adara tried to scold, her grin still stretching across her face.

"He's the one who shot him. don't blame me." Sherlock defended and was quickly shushed.

"Keep your voice down!" John warned an officer passed by, giving them odd looks.

"Sorry, it's just um…nerves I think." John weakly explained, the other two giving her small apologies as well. John cleared his throat as they walked passed.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?" John inquired, stopping their walk. Instantly Adara bristled, her mood souring as she cut a look at Sherlock who had the decency to duck his head sheepishly before spinning around and schooling his features for John.

"Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you two would show up in time." He dismissed. John beat Adara to the punch.

"No, you didn't. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever." John retorted.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an arrogant idiot." Adara snapped pointedly. John hid a grin behind his hand as Sherlock winced at the bite in her tone.

"But I'm your arrogant idiot." he pointed out with a grin, surprising them both with his somewhat public acknowledgment of their relationship. Adara paused, staring at him a moment, fighting against a small grin.

"This is true, but I'm still cross with you." She told him. Sherlock nodded, he could deal with that.

"Dinner?" he suggested, glancing between the two of them.

"Starving." John agreed with a nod. However, he glanced up and spotted a familiar figure leaning up against a dark car down the road, putting John on edge.

"Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about." He hurriedly whispered, alerting them to the man's presence. Sherlock looked over at the man distastefully.

"I know exactly who that is." He muttered, leading the trio closer to the man with a livid glare. John glances around, trying to spot someone he could get for help just in case something went awry. Adara gently sets a hand on his arm.

"Don't worry, everything will be just fine." she assures, guiding him closer to where the two men were staring one another down in disdain.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited….though I'm sure that's not your only motivation is it? Miss Adara has been rubbing off on you, but not enough it seems." The man mused politely, getting a scowl from Sherlock.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned in annoyance.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you." The man points out evenly.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'". Sherlock snarked.

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" the man inquired.

"Oddly enough no." Sherlock retorted sarcastically, playing as if the idea had never occurred to him.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer…and you know how it always upset mummy." The man pointed out with a frown. John's expression dropped, taking a moment to process if what he heard was correct. He looked over to Adara in surprise. She grinned and simply nodded as his answer.

"I upset her? Me?" Sherlock squawked incredulously. The man glowered.

"It wasn't me who upset her, Mycroft." Sherlock countered sharply.

"No, no, wait…mummy? Who's mummy?" John cut in.

"Mother…their mother…John meet Sherlock's brother Mycroft." Adara introduced, immensely amused by the whole situation. John gaped at the brothers.

"Putting on weight again?" Sherlock taunted.

"Losing it, in fact." Mycroft defends.

"He's your brother?!" John scoffs, looking to Sherlock as if he had grown another head.

"Of course, he's my brother." Sherlock shrugged.

"So he's not…"

"Not what?" Sherlock frowned. John shrugged in embarrassment under the brother's gazes.

"I dunno…criminal mastermind?" he offered up sheepishly, grimacing at how silly that sounded. Sherlock pursed his lips.

"Close enough" Mycroft rolled his eyes at Sherlock's immaturity.

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government." Mycroft clarified.

"He practically is the British government, when he's not busy playing British secret service or CIA on freelance basis." Adara elaborated even further for John, knowing the Holmes brothers liked to be vague. Mycroft sighed in quiet exasperation.

"Good evening Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know how it does for the traffic." Sherlock quipped, walking away as he snatched Adara to leave with him. John lingered, looking over at Mycroft who was watching the couple.

"So when…when you say you're concerned about him. You actually are concerned?" John asked.

"Yes, of course. Ms. Corrigan can't keep an eye on him all the time. Then again oftentimes she's nearly as bad as he is" Mycroft answered honestly.

"I mean, it actually is a childish feud?" John continued.

"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners." He nodded, watching his little brother and Adara.

"Yea….no god no!" John's eyes widened in alarm just thinking about it. Christmas with those two and probably Adara in the mix?!

"I'd..I'd better um.." John sputtered, beginning to turn to follow after them. He glanced over spotting 'Anthea'.

"Hello again." John greeted. The girl looked up from her phone with a grin.

"Hello."

"Yes, we…we met earlier this evening." John pointed out to her. She stared at him in confusion for a moment before politely going along with it.

"Oh." She muttered, obviously not remembering. John huffed in exasperation.

"Okay, good night." He sighed before taking off after the duo who were waiting on him at the end of the street.

"So Dim Sum?" Adara suggested, her arm linked through Sherlock's, as John joined them.

"Mmmm…. I can always predict the fortune cookies." Sherlock boasted.

"No you can't." John scoffed with a grin.

"Almost can… You did get shot, though." Sherlock inquired, changing the subject.

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound." He reiterated, indicating the reason for his limp.

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder" John answered.

"Shoulder! I thought so." Sherlock grinned. Adara lightly smacked him.

"You did not." She countered.

"The left one." He pointed out.

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes you do." John snickered, sharing a grin with Sherlock. John watched him for a moment longer, eyeing his thoughtful expression.

"What are yo udo happy about?" he inquired.

"Moriarty." Sherlock answered.

"What's Moriarty?"

"Absolutely no idea." Adara answered for him.

...

...

Once they all had been fed, the trio made their way back to the flat to solidify some last minute paperwork and details with Ms. Hudson concerning John's move. For the night he had opted to return to his old flat since his things hadn't been moved in just yet. Bidding him goodnight Adara gently closed the door behind John before whirling around on Sherlock. He stared at the blonde warily waiting for the scolding that was bound to happen, however what he didn't know was just how volatile she was under her calm exterior. Sherlock secretly hoped she had released a good amount of her frustration when interrogating the cabbie.

"Are you pleased with yourself?" she asked icily. Sherlock absently straightened his shirt. He would have to tread carefully.

"The case is closed, I believe that constitutes a reason for me to be pleased." He meekly answered, avoiding her glare.

"Fine the case was closed, however you and I both know it was closed long before you grabbed the bottle." She countered, her voice still at a reasonable volume. Sherlock detected the slight tremor in it.

"I wanted to know how he did it." Sherlock pointed out. Adara rose a brow, setting the man on edge as she finally walked towards him in the main area.

"Fine. You didn't need the bottle, or the pill that you were about to take." She reiterated.

"I wasn't…."

"Shut up!" she snapped before he could sputter out his excuse.

"Don't stand there and lie to me Sherlock Holmes. I'm not stupid, and I know you." She growled before beginning to pace.

"All I asked was for you to not do anything stupid. Getting in the cab was bad enough. But you wanted your answers and you got them. You could have stopped there but NO, you had to go and try to prove something!" Adara ranted; Sherlock wisely remaining silent. She let out a heavy sigh, raking her fingers through her hair.

"Why do you do it? You are the smartest idiot I know and yet you feel the need to go out of your way to prove that you're the smartest." Sherlock bit the inside of his lip, feeling guilty that he was the one that caused her to act like this. He didn't like angry Adara.

"I was right, I just needed him to know that." He shrugged like a toddler being scolded. Adara rolled her eyes.

"Sherlock, the timing was all wrong. I know it occurred to you that you could have just taken the pills and analyzed them to prove you were right." Sherlock stared at the floor. Rubbing her face tiredly she made her way over towards the man, reaching up to cup his face. Sherlock looked her in the eyes and smiled a little now that the warmth had returned to her grey irises once more.

"You have got to stop putting yourself in these situations when you don't have to. One day someone is going to wise up and use this character flaw against you; I worry that it won't be something you can just walk away from. I know you're right….most of the time….and so does everyone else. Stop being stupid." She chuckled a little, Sherlock grinning sheepishly at her last statement.

"While I prefer you being an adrenaline junkie over others, there are much healthier and better ways to get that rush. Please don't purposefully put yourself in hazardous situations for fun." She whispered, stretching up to place a soft kiss on his lips. Sherlock nodded, resting his forehead against hers in a rare show of intimacy. It was times when they were alone that Adara got the true depths of Sherlock Holmes, after years of working for it. She cherished the times when he let his guard down.

"Perhaps you can assist with re-routing my…addictive tendencies." He suggested in his baritone voice, looking at her heatedly. Adara grinned and kissed his nose.

"Maybe later. If I recall you have a meal ready to be warmed up from Angelo's. The case is over, and I would like for you to start eating again." She told him pointedly. Sherlock rolled his eyes but didn't protest as he was dragged into the kitchen.


	10. Blind Banker

"Now the Social Identity Theory, developed by Henry Tajfel…" Adara's voice rang out in the large lecture hall in Oxford University. Her stiletto heels clicked throughout the room as she paced along the front of the hall, being sure to keep her students of the day occupied. Her eyes roamed along the hall, mentally picking out which ones were actually going to survive this program and who were going to crack under the pressure. Adara frequently asked for their input, praising them when correct and politely correcting those who were not. As she continued to talk, she heard a ding and felt a vibration coming from her jacket pocket. Wearing a pencil skirt left her with a lack of pockets, but when you are associated with Sherlock Holmes one must always have their phone on. With a sigh she held up a finger to the crowd, reaching into her suit jacket for her mobile.

**Diamond case solved, but expecting unwelcome company. Come at earliest convenience. – H**

Adara grumbled under her breath, placing the phone back into her pocket. It seemed she would be ending this lecture earlier than she anticipated. However, she was at least going to finish what she had been discussing with the group. Throughout the next half hour she continued to feel her phone vibrate but ignored it, knowing it could wait a little while. Reaching a good ending point she concluded the session, wishing the students good luck with their courses. Briskly walking over the desk, she gathered her laptop and other belongings to put into her satchel.

"That was great Adara, you're still brilliant. The students loved you." A male voice chimed in from behind her. She glanced up at Wesley, a colleague from university and the professor of the class. Adara grinned politely, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Well I hope they got something out of it. Thank you for having me guest lecture again." She reached out to shake his hand, the blonde man blushing ever so slightly. Her mobile rang again and with a sigh she pulled it out, eyeing all the texts that Sherlock had been sending her.

"So listen, I was wondering….next time you're free….."

"Sorry Wesley, but I've got to dash." The man nodded in understanding.

"Sherlock?" Adara smirked.

"As always, he won't admit it, but he can't function without me." She teased, patting the man's shoulder before making her way towards the door.

"Shoot me a text next time you need a lecture!" she waved behind her as she left, not waiting around to hear Wesley's answer. Adara pressed the call button and listened as it rang. Being sent to voicemail, she picked up her pace.

...

...

Back at Baker street…Sherlock was deflecting an attack from a heavily robed figure, wielding a large sword. The attacker slashed at Sherlock with his weapon, causing Sherlock to duck in order to avoid the blows. The man backs him up towards the sofa before taking another swipe at him. Ducking, Sherlock flopped onto the sofa. Lifting the sword above his head the man prepares to bring the weapon down, but before he can attack Sherlock struck the man in the chest with his foot. The attacker stumbled backwards, allowing Sherlock to leap to his feet; taking a moment to straighten his jacket just before he charged his opponent.

The man quickly recovers and holds the sword sideways to push Sherlock back towards the kitchen. Holding the man's wrists tightly, Sherlock's back is pressed against the table, just managing to avoid the blade as he redirects it to scrape against the table instead. Raising one of his long legs, Sherlock knees the man in the side repeatedly in order to get him to relax his grip. Once it was manageable, Sherlock forces him upwards, the sword tip slicing across the dining room table and leaving a mark. Back on his feet, Sherlock continued the fight in the main room. The man took another swing at him. Sherlock ducked once more before straightening up. Behind them the door bursts open.

"Hey!" the man turned in that direction, bringing the sword with him. Taking advantage of the distraction, Sherlock sends an uppercut to the man's chin and renders him unconscious. Adara and Sherlock watch as he drops into Sherlock's armchair. Sherlock straightens himself up and proceeds to examine himself in the mirror, dusting his suit off.

"Took you long enough." He panted slightly, running a hand through his curls. Adara shrugged.

"I was busy." She explained, making her way over towards him. Sherlock's eyes followed her movement, more specifically her legs, in the mirror. Adara grinned as she came to a stop behind him.

"You can't just call me because you wanted me to yourself. I was guest lecturing." She scolded with a knowing grin at his scowl.

"Wesley is infatuated with you. The only reason he calls is so he has another day to drool over you." He growled in distaste, glancing away from her childishly as she grinned. Adara reached a hand up, gently guiding him to look at her.

"No need to get jealous, dear." She leaned up to press a kiss to his lip, the heels adding just enough height. Sherlock smirked, grabbing her hip and pulling her in more forcefully. His grin widened as a giggle slipped from her lips as he kissed her possessively. A low groan beside them brought them back to the issue at hand. In one swift motion Adara grabbed the fire poker and whipped the man across the temple with the handle. He went limp once more. The couple turned to stare down at the unconscious man in Sherlock's chair.

"Now, what do we do with him?" she inquired looking up at Sherlock.

...

...

A mere hour later Sherlock is sitting in his chair, reading a book as if nothing had happened. Adara was across from him on the couch, now dressed in her usual jeans and ankle boots, reading a newspaper. John made his way up the stairs tensely. As he walks into the living room he looks around, noting that everything was exactly the same as when he had left earlier. Minus Adara who wasn't there this morning.

"You took your time." Sherlock mused, glancing up at him.

"Yea, I didn't get the shopping." John complained, still glancing around the room with a frown. Something was off but he couldn't tell what it was. Maybe nothing.

"What, why not?" Sherlock frowned, peeking over the top of his book.

"Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip and pin machine." John bristles. Sherlock eyes him in curiously, lowering his book a little.

"You….you had a row with a machine?" Adara questioned with amused interest. John pursed his lips.

"Sort of. It sat there, and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" John asked Sherlock, redirecting the conversation. Sherlock holds back his amused retort and nods towards the kitchen.

"Take my card." He offers. John heads into the kitchen to grab the card on the table, however he turned and stared at Sherlock indignantly.

"You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." he huffed pointedly. Sherlock and Adara lock eyes from across the room. Both hid their grins.

"And what happened about the case you were offered? The Jaria Diamond?" John inquired, his back turned and missing the interaction.

"Not interested." Sherlock plays off, placing a slip of paper into the crease of his book to mark off his spot. Setting his other foot down he notices that the sword is still underneath his seat. Sherlock quickly slides the sword farther under the chair, being sure that John didn't notice.

"I sent them a message." Sherlock added sternly. John, grabbing a hold of the wallet frowns as he peers closer at the table. He runs his finger along the slice in the table, making sure it's not a scuff mark.

"Holmes." He grumbles under his breath, cutting a scolding glare over towards the man who stares back innocently.

"How did that lecture go?" John politely asks, turning to look at Adara. She shrugged.

"Nothing too interesting. Came back here to keep Sherlock company." John eyed her, feeling uneasy about the mischievous glint in her eyes. Did he want to know what they were up to? Suppressing a shudder as his mind wandered too far, John waves to the duo before heading for the exit. Sherlock smirks as John disappears back down the stairs to try and get the groceries again.

...

A while later John comes stumbling up the stairs with several grocery bags in hand.

"Don't worry about me. I can manage." he groans sarcastically, spotting Sherlock sitting at the table in the living room. Sherlock stares at the laptop screen, frowning as he reads the email intently. Adara hovers over his shoulder with a scowl. John is ignored by the duo as he dumps all the bags onto the table with a heavy sigh. Once the bags have been taken care of John looks over and blinks as he scans over Sherlock's form….more importantly what he is staring at.

"Is that my computer?" he asks incredulously.

"Of course." Sherlock answers, beginning to type his response to the email.

"What?" John deadpans tiredly.

"Mine was in the bedroom." Sherlock elaborated calmly.

"What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" John continued in annoyance.

"Well seeing as the room is still a mess it would have taken much too long to find it." Adara waved her hand dismissively.

"Didn't you clean it yesterday morning?" John asked warily. Sherlock and Adara turn to stare John simultaneously.

"Yes. So?" she inquired, as Sherlock got back to his work. John stared at them silently.

"So how did it get that messy so quickly?" he asked curiously.

"We were experimenting." Adara answered with a shrug. John hummed, still eyeing her. It sounded right.

"When you say 'experiment' do you mean literally or is that an innuendo?" he asked cautiously. Sherlock slowly looked over at the man with a frown. Before either could answer, John held his hand up and closed his eyes.

"You know what, I really don't want to know." He grimaced. Adara smirked, turning back to look at the laptop screen.

"How did you even get it open, it's password protected." John pointed at the laptop, shedding his coat.

"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." Sherlock explained as he continued typing, only pausing for a moment to spare John a pointed glance.

"Not exactly Fort Knox." He deadpanned.

"Right, thank you." John huffs in annoyance as he slams the laptop shut. Sherlock jerks his fingers out of the way just in time, blinking at John's annoyance. John walks over to his sitting chair, setting the laptop on the table next to him tiredly. Sherlock remained seated at the table, his hands clasped in a prayer position, lost in thought. Adara took a seat opposite him. The two locked eyes, having a silent conversation. One that Adara certainly was against if her scowl was anything to go by. Meanwhile John reads over the letters on the side table with a frown, taking no notice to the others in the room. Shaking his head at all the urgent bills he sighs.

"Need to get a job." John muttered.

"Oh, dull." Sherlock counters distractedly.

"Adara has a job." John retorted. She hummed in disagreement.

"Not quite, I consult and guest lecture. Not the same thing as what you have in mind." She elaborated. John rolled his eyes before looking over at Sherlock. Licking his lip, he glanced back at the bills and leans towards the other man uncomfortably.

"Listen, um…..if you'd be able to lend me some…" he hesitates when he realizes that the other two are in their own little world, having a mental debate.

"Sherlock, Adara…...are either of you listening?" John inquired. Sherlock frowns.

"I need to go to the bank." he declares instead, taking no heed to John. Adara grunted in displeasure, still rooted to her spot. Sherlock stared at her admonishingly.

"Of course I'll go, but I don't have to like it." She defended stubbornly. He pursed his lips but her answer seemed satisfactory enough. With a burst of energy, Sherlock took off towards the stairs, grabbing his coat from the hook as he does. Adara moved a bit slower in protest. Blinking in surprise, John follows after….not entirely sure what was going on.

...

...

Across town Sherlock lead John and Adara through revolving glass doors into the Shad Sanderson Bank, one that obviously dealt with international affairs. John stares in awe at the foyer and the elaborate construction of the bank. This was not what he was expecting.

"Yes, when you said we were going to the bank…" he trails off still following Sherlock up the escalator. Adara trails behind the both of them, just managing to hide her pout. Sherlock ignores her and takes in the room as they slowly ascend, making mental note of the clocks, security system, and the reception desks. He was there to do a job after all, past encounters aside.

Soon after introducing himself to the receptionist the trio is led up into Sebastian Wilke's office. Adara frowns as she glances around the room. Sherlock, turns towards her, sensing her mood.

"I request that you remain civil throughout this encounter." He lowly tells her. John eyes them from across the room.

"Since when am I not civil." Adara huffed with an innocent grin. Sherlock rose a brow, pursing his lips. Adara rolled her eyes.

"I will if he will." She muttered with a sigh. Sherlock nodded, knowing that was as good as he was going to get. He reached out for her but then the man himself walked in, causing Sherlock to quickly jerk his arm back.

"Sherlock Holmes and Adara Corrigan." Sebastian greeted with a grin.

"Sebastian." Sherlock greets tensely as they shook hands.

"Hello, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian beamed politely. Sherlock looks at him with barely concealed dislike but made no comment.

"Adara, if possible you look even more stunning." Sebastian reached for her hand but she smoothly crossed her arms, keeping her hands out of reach.

"I'm sure." she hummed with disdain, not even bothering to put on a polite grin. Sherlock frowned at her pointedly, but she ignored it. Sebastian tensely chuckled before turning to John, glancing back at Sherlock for the introduction.

"This is my friend, John Watson." Sherlock introduced with emphasis on 'friend'.

"Friend?" Sebastian asks in surprise.

"Colleague." John corrects, not catching the look the other two shot him.

"Right." The men shake hands, Sebastian eyeing John curiously before throwing a surprised glance at Sherlock. John glanced over and winced, startled by the glare Adara was giving him. How could he so quickly shoot down the idea of being Sherlock's friend?

As the tension in the room increased, John eyed Sebastian as he walked around to his desk, unsure how he felt about the man. He seemed to put Sherlock on edge and if Adara hated him, which seemed pretty obvious, then there was a good reason for it.

"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?" Sebastian inquired. The trio shook their heads, Sherlock and John taking a seat while Adara opted to stand.

"No? We're all sorted here, thanks." Sebastian waved off his secretary and sat at the desk across from the three of them.

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot." Sherlock commented idly.

"Well, some." Sebastian shrugged.

"Flying all the way around the world twice in a month?" Sherlock insisted. John frowned, once more lost, while Sebastian laughed and pointed at Sherlock.

"Right. You're doing that thing." He grinned wryly and turned to John.

"We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."

"It's not a trick." Sherlock quietly countered but was ignored.

"He could look at you and tell you your whole life story. Even got Adara in on it too." Sebastian continued.

"Yes, I've seen them do it." John nodded.

"Put the wind up on everybody. We hated him." Sherlock turned his head towards the ground, his face flashing with hurt. In reflex, Adara bristled. Her eyes flashed dangerously at Sebastian as she stood tensely behind Sherlock's chair.

"Yes, much like bullies with an inferiority complex which ultimately leads to picking on the more intellectually superior pupils" she shot back icily.

"Still playing shrink with everyone eh?" Sebastian questioned tightly. Adara smirked.

"Well some people need it more than others. You've always been one of my best subjects." She bit back. Sebastian sent her a withering glare.

"Adara." Sherlock lowly warned, looking up at her imploringly. She backed off…for the moment.

"You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know who you'd been shagging the previous night." Sebastian continued, looking to John.

"I simply observed." Sherlock insisted quietly, much more subdued than his usual arrogance.

"Call him a freak one more time Sebastian and we walk. It's stupid to insult the one you're trying to hire." She warned. Sebastian rose his hands up in surrender before turning his attention back to Sherlock.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world. You're quite right. How could you tell." Sherlock tried to cut in, but Sebastian continued smugly.

"You're gonna tell me there was….a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan." He pointed out, managing to cover his sneer. John smirked in amusement. It quickly diminished when Adara smacked him on the shoulder.

"No, I…"

"Maybe it was the mud on my shoes." Sebastian chuckles, talking over Sherlock. Adara stares at him, clenching her jaw tightly. Sherlock merely looks at him subdued before speaking up.

"I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me." He answered meekly. John whips his head over to frown at him, confused by Sherlock's explanation. Instead of his usual arrogant spiel, he had come up with a 'normal' solution. Sebastian laughs humorlessly, Sherlock sharing an equally enthused grin. Sebastian clasped his hands together, bypassing the severely uncomfortable mood that had taken over the room.

"I'm glad you could make it over. We've had a break-in." he begins seriously, standing up to lead them across the trading floor.

"Sir William's office; the bank's former Chairman. The room's been left here like sort of a memorial. Someone broke in last night." Sebastian explained as they walked.

"What did they steal?" John inquired, noting that Sherlock was still a bit quiet.

"Nothing, just left a little message." Sebastian answered, holding the security card by the door to unlock it. In the empty room the group was instantly drawn to the portrait just behind the desk. A yellow mark was sprayed over the eyes of Sir William. Next to the portrait was another graffiti tag in the same yellow paint, resembling a sloppy 'o', with another horizontal line above it. Sebastian stepped aside to let Sherlock get a better look at the markings. John stood by Adara while Sherlock studied the markings.

"Any security footage to work with?" Adara inquired, looking towards Sebastian. He nodded and led them back over to his office, pulling up the camera footage in the office from last night.

"Sixty seconds apart." he pointed out, flicking back and forth between the frames, separated by only a minute. One frame it was blank and the next the markings appeared, but no sign of anything or anyone else.

"Impressive." Adara hummed. Sebastian shot her a displeased stare.

"Someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed some paint around, and left within a minute. That's not exactly an easy feat." She continued un-apologetically. Sherlock grinned from the other side of Sebastian.

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock inquired, taking the attention off Adara.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting."


	11. Only Explanation

Down in reception, Sebastian pulled up a floor plan of the building which also showed all the security checks for each door.

"Every door that opens in this bank, gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet." Sebastian explained to them.

"That door didn't open last night." Sherlock continued for him, reading over the information on the screen.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you…five figures." Sebastian offered, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket to take out a check. John eyed the check with interest from behind Sebastian.

"This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there's a bigger one on its way." he told Sherlock.

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian." Sherlock growled before walking off. With an eye roll, Sebastian turned to Adara with the check still in his hand.

"Not my case, I'm just helping." She dismissed, quickly maneuvering around the man and after Sherlock. John uncomfortably stood there, left behind.

"He's, uh…he's kidding. Obviously. Sh-shall I look after that for him?" John offered, holding out his hand for the check. Sebastian shrugged, handing it to him.

"Thanks." He nodded. John's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath at how much money Sherlock nearly turned down.

...

Using his mobile, Sherlock took photos of the markings left on and around the painting. He didn't turn as the sound of boots clicking behind him.

"You still should have taken the money, Sherlock." She tutted gently. Sherlock grunted.

"I don't need it to do the job." He bristled, still not taking his eyes off the yellow paint. Adara sighed and made her way to stand next to him.

"I understand why you didn't. However you still have bills to pay just like everyone else." She reminded. Sherlock shrugged.

"That's why I left John in charge of grabbing it. We both know he will." Adara grinned in amusement. Finally satisfied with the photographs he had taken Sherlock turns around, the symbols still bouncing around in his head.

"Any idea what these are for?" He asked, looking to Adara who was staring at them with a frown.

"Not exactly. Could be random scribbles…"

"But we know they aren't, why go through all the trouble just to mark up a room."

"Then some type of code or message? I don't recognize anything about them, it's not standardized anywhere. I'd have to ask around." She elaborated, turning away from the markings and glancing around the room. She stared at the skyline that was seen from the floor to ceiling windows to their right. Sherlock followed her gaze and frowned in thought. He glanced between the door and the window, putting the pieces together. Adara walked towards them, pulling up the blinds to reveal a door leading to the small balcony.

"This door wasn't on the floor plan. There's two ways into the room and only one is secured." Adara mused aloud. Sherlock slid open the door and stood out on the balcony. Looking straight down from the ledge Sherlock scans the immense height of the building, and glances around, taking note of no other nearby structures coming close to this height. Adara slides past him and crouches down, running her hands along the balcony's edge. Satisfied, she shares a nod with Sherlock and he steps aside to let her back in first. With one last glance around he follows.

...

On the trading floor the employees watch in bewilderment as the tall man begins what seems to be an elaborate dance routine. Sherlock bobs up and down as he crosses an aisle of cubicles, staring intently at the glass door to Sir William's office. He then ducks sideways and scurries across the floor, drawing a confused crowd of observers. Sherlock continues his erratic movements, dashing and ducking across the floor. In and out of cubicles and nooks. Adara stands next to John as the two watch his peculiar routine.

"What is he doing?" John whispers, his wide eyes locked on the man as Sherlock dramatically twirls around a column before backing up towards an office space.

"Trying establish a line of sight to the graffiti. He's just doing it the hard way." she hummed in amusement. John frowned at her. Before he could question her further Adara made her way into Sir William's office and turned to line her head up with the mark across the eyes of the portrait. Staring at the sight in front of her she found exactly what she wanted. With a sure nod the strawberry blonde made her way smoothly across the floor, taking a moment to dodge Sherlock who was so locked in he never noticed her presence.

Meanwhile Sherlock made his way to the opposite end of the floor and paused in one of the office doorways. He jiggled his torso back and forth to get slightly different views from the area. Walking into the office he nearly stumbles as Adara looks up at him from the seat behind the desk. With a wide grin she watches as Sherlock stands directly behind the chair, locking onto the perfectly clear view of the graffiti on the painting. With a scowl Sherlock looks down at her.

"How long have you been here?" he huffed. Adara shrugged.

"About a minute." Sherlock's brow furrowed as he realized he had gone through all that work and she said nothing.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well for one I quite liked watching you dance about. And secondly you and I both know that my suggestion would have been ignored." She stared at the man pointedly. Her grey eyes bore into his mix of blue-green with a knowing look. Sherlock flitted his eyes away from her gaze, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He couldn't really deny that. Looking around Sherlock made his way to the door, reading the name attached to it. Edward Van Coon, Hong Kong office. Sliding the name out of the holder he takes off…only to come right back when realizing Adara wasn't behind him. Grabbing her hand he tugs her along, ignoring her snickering at how distracted he could get.

"John, come on!" Adara shouts as they dash past where the other man was standing.

...

...

Walking out of the elevators John flicks his gaze to look over at Sherlock, his mouth fidgeting as he formulates what to say. Adara watches the struggle as she walks between the two men, her hand no longer locked with Sherlock's but continuously brushing against his as they walk.

"Two trips around the world this month. You didn't ask his secretary; you said that just to irritate him." John pointed out. Sherlock smirked.

"How did you know?" John inquired.

"Did you see his watch?" Sherlock shot back.

"His watch?"

"The time was right, but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn't alter it."

"Within a month? How'd you get that part?"

"New Breitling. Only came out this February." Adara piped up. John nodded in understanding as they descended the elevator.

"Okay. So, do you think we should sniff around here a bit longer?" John asked.

"Got everything I need to know already, thanks." Sherlock dismissed. John hummed in confusion.

"The graffiti message was for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find who it was left for and…" Adara trailed off waiting for John to complete the statement.

"….they'll lead us to the person who sent it." he finished. Adara grinned at him, John returning it.

"Obvious." Sherlock muttered.

"Well, there's three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?" John continued, knowing that Sherlock would probably know if his display in the office was fruitful.

"Pillars."

"What?" Adara rolled her eyes at Sherlock's lack of elaboration.

"Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course, the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot." she explained for him.

"Does it?" John frowned in confusion. The trio continued the conversation as they passed through the revolving doors.

"Traders work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight." Sherlock flipped up the name card with a flourish to further drive home his point.

"Not many Van Coons in the phone book." He mused before quickly calling a cab. John grinned with excitement as he and Adara hopped into the cab with Sherlock.

...

...

Exiting the taxi, the trio arrive at a set of apartment complexes. They walk up to VanCoon's building and Sherlock presses the buzzer for the man's apartment. Adara glances up at the security camera above them as he presses the buzzer once again. There is no response.

"So, what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John inquired shoving his hands into his pockets. Sherlock steps back and analyzes the layout of the balconies while Adara turns to John.

"How do we know he's out? Maybe he can't or won't answer the buzz." she commented idly. John frowned in thought.

"Just moved in." Sherlock muttered, rejoining them. John blinked in confusion.

"What?" Sherlock pointed to the label of the buzzer near VanCoon that was hand written.

"The floor above. New label." He explained briefly.

"Could have just replaced it." John shrugged. Adara and Sherlock shot him a look.

"Nobody does that." Adara countered dryly. John rolled his eyes at the barb while Sherlock buzzed in

"Hello?" a woman's voice chimed from the intercom. Sherlock turned towards the camera with a friendly yet shy smile.

"Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I don't think we've met." Sherlock gushed. John shot the man an incredulous look. He looked over at Adara questioningly to which she bit her lip in amusement at Sherlock's charade.

"No, well, uh…I've just moved in." Adara turned to shoot John an 'I told you so' look.

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat." Sherlock bit his lip in 'embarrassment'.

"Do you want me to buzz you in?" the woman asked.

"Yea. And can I use your balcony?" he quickly shot off, his bubbly persona dropping.

"What?" the woman squawked in confusion. Adara groaned under her breath and nudged him aside.

"Hi, sorry about him. But if you let us in I promise we will explain everything. He's just a bit anxious to get inside." She beamed politely, lightly patting a disgruntled Sherlock on the chest. With that the woman buzzed them in and they made their way up to her apartment.

Once they had talked their way into the woman's flat Sherlock headed over towards the balcony. Adara came and stood next to him as they glanced down to the road, analyzing all the footholds along the walls. Down just below them was VanCoon's flat who had a balcony a bit wider than the one they were currently on. Sherlock climbed over the side, dropping heavily down onto the balcony. Stepping out of the way he watches as Adara nimbly lifts herself into a handstand on the railing above, turns around and slides down the rails of the balcony before landing soundlessly beside him. She grins at him while flinging her hands out dramatically. Sherlock's lips quirked at her smug expression.

"Show off" he muttered before heading towards the door. Adara glanced over the edge of the balcony one more taking note of the ledges around it before turning to follow. Sherlock reaches for the handle of the door, finding it already unlocked.

"Balcony unlocked. Same as the bank." Adara quietly murmured, Sherlock nodding slightly in agreement. Stepping inside the duo glanced around the elaborately decorated living room, one that you would expect from an international banker. Silently making their way through the house, Adara takes notices off the various lamps on in the house. She follows Sherlock as he opens the refrigerator, revealing numerous champagne bottles and little else. The buzzer goes off in the silent apartment.

"Sherlock?" John asked from the other side.

"Adara is everything ok?" he calls, hearing nothing from the other two.

"Just a mo." Adara quietly tells him, leaving the door to follow after Sherlock.

"What?...Ad…Adara what's going on?" John persists but this time goes unanswered. Inside they continue their evaluation of the apartment; taking note of some of the more feminine articles in the bathroom and living areas. Her head turns as Sherlock jiggles on the locked door handle of what they would assume is the bedroom.

"Yeah, anytime you feel like letting me in." John huffs from outside. Turning to his side, Sherlock charges the door and busts it open. Inside they step in to find who they assume is VanCoon lying prone on the bed. Bullet hole in his temple and pistol on the floor. Sharing a silent nod Adara walks towards the entrance on her way to let John in while she calls Scotland Yard.

...

Once the police had finally made their way to the crime scene Sherlock stripped off his coat in order to better move about the flat. Slipping on a pair of latex gloves he makes his way back to the bedroom this time with John in tow.

"Do you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among city boys." John pointed out as he looked down at the prone man on the bed.

"We don't know that it was suicide." Sherlock countered. John shot him a disbelieving look.

"Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you two had to climb down the balcony." He commented. Adara joined them the room, standing by the edges as she watched silently. Sherlock squatted by the suitcase on the floor nearby, opening the lid to look inside.

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry." Adara noted from her spot on the wall. John sighed at the avoidance of answering his question.

"Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it." Sherlock gestured as he stood and turned back to John.

"Thanks, I'll take your word for it." John dismissed uncomfortably.

"Are you shy John?" Adara teased. He shot her a deadpan glare.

"No, I'm just not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear." He sniffed. Sherlock ignored the banter and made his way back to the edge of the bed.

"Those symbols at the bank. The graffiti. Why were they put there?" he mumbled aloud.

"What, some sort of code?" John asked curiously.

"Obviously." Sherlock quipped. Sherlock eyes the prone man before checking inside his jacket pockets.

"Now, why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use e-mail?" Adara continued, leading John along their train of thought.

"Well, maybe he wasn't answering." John suggested.

"Oh good. You follow." Sherlock idly praised.

"Nope." John corrected. Sherlock looked at him tiredly, before continuing his examination of the body.

"What kind of message would everyone try to avoid?" he hinted pointedly. John frowned in confusion.

"Think back to this morning. What were the letters you were looking at?" Adara pushed more helpfully as the man became increasingly lost.

"Bills." John muttered thoughtfully. Sherlock nods distractedly as he reached forward to pry the man's mouth open. Inside he found a small black origami flower.

"Exactly. He was being threatened." Adara answered, examining the flower Sherlock was holding.

"And not by the gas board." John whispered humorously as Sherlock bagged the flower. Adara smirked. Outside a new voice barked throughout the apartment.

"Bag, this up, will you. And see if you can get prints off this glass." Adara instantly scrunched her face up in exasperation.

"Oh bollocks." She cursed under her breath. Sherlock and John frowned at her but before they could ask a plain clothes officer came in.

"Ah Sergeant. We haven't met." Sherlock greeted, sticking out his hand to the younger man. However, the officer just put his hands on his hips with a small glare.

"Yea, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." He growled testily. Sherlock handed over the bag with the flower silently, staring at the man intently.

"I distinctly remember phoning Lestrade…not you….so when should we expect him." Adara cut in from behind the man. The officer jumped and turned her direction, scowling as he recognized her.

"He's busy. I'm in charge, got it." The man huffed at her. Adara rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Whatever you like Dimwit." She hummed in contempt. The man glared at her before turning back to Sherlock.

"By the way it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector Dimmock." He corrected, being sure to emphasis his name while cutting a look at Adara.

"Tomato, Tomoto" she waved her hand dismissively, the man bristling. Sherlock and John look at the man in surprise before he stomped out of the room.

"Adara how exactly do you know Dimmock." Sherlock questioned.

"Dimwit is more accurate, and I don't always follow you around you know. I have been called in on my own consultations. Once of them was unfortunately with the detective inspector and he wasn't too keen on my being there. His boss called me in to help." She briefly explained before waltzing out, not taking any more questions from the other two. Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, following after her while sharing a surprised look with John. Obviously Dimmock and Adara didn't get along, making this much more interesting.

Adara stood in the center of the living room, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Dimmock give orders to his team.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." He declared, turning towards the other two.

"No." Adara quickly shot down, earning a glare from Dimmock.

"You can't just negate the claim simply because it came from me." He retorted, staring at her with contempt. Adara smirked deviously, enjoying how she got under the man's skin.

"Of course I can…..but that's not why I refuted the suicide theory." She explained. John cleared his throat uncomfortably as everyone in the room began turning their attention to the squabble.

"But it does seem to be the only explanation of all the facts." John pointed out to her. Adara turned to stare at him scathingly; John was unable to maintain eye contact. Sherlock pursed his lips at how quickly John already started to doubt Adara's skill. The taller man quickly slipped off his latex gloves, turning towards the John.

"Wrong. It's one possible explanation of some of the facts." He announced, shooting her Adara small grin. She returned it appreciatively. The two geniuses turned back to face Dimmock together.

"You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it." Sherlock tutted, glancing between both John and Adara. Dimmock frowned in confusion.

"Like?"

"The wound is on the right side of his head." Sherlock pointed out." Dimmock didn't follow.

"And?"

"Van Coon is left-handed." Adara added with a sigh, staring at Dimmock pointedly. To reinforce her statement Sherlock dramatically begins contorting his arms in an attempt to shoot his right temple with his left hand.

"Requires quite the contortion." He muttered.

"Left-handed?" Dimmock squeaked, skeptical as he glanced between Adara and Sherlock.

"It's shocking that you didn't pick up on that simple fact. All you had to do was look around the flat." Adara commented sarcastically. Dimmock bristled. Looking to Sherlock, Adara silently asked if she could have the satisfaction of embarrassing the man. Sherlock's lips quirked up and he gestured for her to go ahead. With a devilish grin Adara whipped around fully to face Dimmock, who was already regretting this.

"Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right hand and took messages with his left. Shall I continue?" she rattled off, staring at her companions coyly as she asked for permission.

"No, I think you covered it." John sighed tiredly.

"Might as well, you've almost reached the bottom of the list." Sherlock countered, his grin widening.

"Sherlock don't encourage her." John scolded lowly, but he wasn't all that surprised. All he could do was nod along, exasperated with their antics. Adara's eyebrows bobbed in excitement.

"There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." She concluded, looking at Dimmock with a smug grin. Dimmock said nothing, merely staring at her, red faced in embarrassment.

"So by simple deduction we can conclude?..." she trailed off waiting for Dimmock to answer the question. After a beat of silence, Sherlock decided to fill in the gaps.

"It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head." He answered. Sherlock and Adara grinned like loons as they squared off against the detective inspector.

"Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts." Adara explained.

"But the gun. Why…" before Dimmock could finish Sherlock went ahead and answered.

"He was waiting for the killer he had been threatened." With that Sherlock swiftly moved to put on his outer gear in preparation to leave.

"What?" Dimmock asked dumbly. Adara sighed in annoyance and followed Sherlock's lead.

"Today at the bank. Sort of a warning." John provided the explanation.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock tagged on.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock questioned. Adara shrugged thoughtfully.

"Went out the open window." Dimmock looked at them in exasperation.

"Oh, come on! What are the chances of that!" he sputtered.

"Look if you want more proof then just wait until you check ballistics. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it." Adara crossed her arms, tiredly. Why couldn't he just take their word for it already.

"But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?" Dimmock asked. Sherlock dramatically slapped his glove into his hand with wide, sarcastic eyes.

"Good! You're finally asking the right questions." He cheered before gliding out of the room. Adara booped the man childishly on the nose before following. Dimmock growled in annoyance as they left, looking at John in bafflement. John glanced around awkwardly before pointing after his partners apologetically and making his way after them.


	12. Killer That Can Climb

The group managed to track down Sebastian at a dinner meeting. Without much thought Sherlock and Adara made their way inside and made their way right towards his table.

"….and he's left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course can never be done!" Sebastian relayed with a laugh as he chatted with the men at the table. Sherlock made himself known John and Adara in tow.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." He bluntly informed. Everyone at the table paused and stared at the man curiously before their eyes flitted over his companions. Sebastian smiled tightly at Sherlock, both miffed and caught off guard by his presence.

"I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" he dismissed tightly.

"I don't think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian." Adara winced mockingly as she stared at the man. Sebastian pursed his lips.

"One of your traders, someone who worked in your office, was killed." Sherlock explained seriously. Seb looked up at him in alarm.

"What?"

"Van Coon. The police are at his flat." John calmly imputed for clarification.

"Killed?" Seb echoed, still in shock.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion." Sherlock glanced at the others sarcastically before looking back at Sebastian.

"Still want to make an appointment? Would, maybe nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Adara asked pointedly.

"This isn't a joke Seb. We need to talk now." She added a bit more gently. Sebastian put down his glass, nervously running his fingers along his shirt collar. With a nod he led the way towards the men's room. Before entering Sebastian hesitated and glanced back at Adara, as did John. She pursed her lips in displeasure.

"I'm going in whether you like it or not." She quickly refuted. With a reluctant nod they all continued inside.

"You know it's highly improper for a woman to enter the men's loo." Sherlock muttered behind her. Adara turned to look at him in amusement.

"As if you are one to comment on propriety." She mused. Sherlock's lips quirked.

"Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while so.." Sebastian began describing Van Coon as he washed his hands in an effort to ground himself.

"…so you gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John finished.

"Lost five mill in a single morning; made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had." Sebastian added, drying off his hands. Sherlock and Adara stood on the other side of Sebastian, brows furrowed in thought as they listened.

"Who'd wanna kill him?" John inquired.

"We all make enemies." Sebastian shrugged easily, glancing briefly at the other two in the room who ignored him.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." John countered. Sebastian's phone beeped with an incoming text.

"Not usually, Excuse me." He politely excused himself before reading his phone.

"It's my chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently, they are telling him it was suicide." Sebastian explained, looking up at them. Adara straightened up from where she was leaning against the sink.

"Dimmwit." She growled under her breath in exasperation.

"Well they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered." Sherlock countered sternly.

"Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that." Seb sighed.

"Seb." Sherlock pushed earnestly.

"…and neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." Sebastian warned. As he began to walk away, Adara grabbed his arm.

"Sebastian, this is the job. There is no side-tracking. The police are telling you the wrong thing." She insisted. Seb didn't respond but gently brushed her arm off, walking out the door. Once he was out of the room John turned to Sherlock.

"I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards." He quipped. Sherlock clenched his jaw, glaring tiredly at the door Sebastian had just walked out of.

...

...

At a café across town Adara strode in, ordering her latte before taking a seat at one of the booths in the back. She gently blew on the hot liquid in the cup, not looking up as another figure slid into the booth in front of her.

"You're drink order has gone a bit sweeter since I last saw ya." The man pointed out. Adara grinned in amusement, lifting her eyes to look up at him.

"If you're trying to imply something, I can assure you that not much has changed about me." She hummed. The man pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully, a grin tugging at his lips. Adara set down her drink and glanced up at the man's shaggy mane.

"Your hair is red now." She snickered. The large man's storm grey eyes narrowed as he self-consciously ran a hand through it.

"Well it was time for a change." He huffed, ignoring her amusement.

"I like you better as a brunette." Adara pointed out. The man rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright. I know you didn't ask me here to compare hair colors. What do you need?" he redirected, leaning his arms on the table. Adara nodded minutely and slid her mobile across the table. The man frowned and looked down at the photo of the markings from the bank. He glanced up at her, eyebrow raised.

"That was found as a warning left for a trader at midnight. Shad Sanderson Bank. Only way in and out was the balcony in less than a minute." She listed off for him. Her companion tilted his head, impressed.

"Quite a feat. Like old times." He chuckled. Adara rolled her eyes fondly, sipping on her latte.

"Now is not the time for nostalgia. What I need to know is if this work sounds familiar or if you recognize the markings." The man reached up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Nothing comes to mind. And these markings are more ancient looking, definitely not anything new." He explained. Adara pursed her lips and grabbed her phone back.

"Would you mind checking around? I would really appreciate it." She requested quietly. Her friend reached over and patted her hand.

"Sure thing, Darry. It was good seeing you. You look good." He grinned down at her, standing up from his seat.

"You too, G ." she returned his grin, sipping her latte once more as he exited the café.

...

...

At the flat Sherlock had printed pictures of the graffiti from the portrait on the mirror above the fireplace. His mind sifted through hundreds of languages, trying to pick out where the symbols had come from. He sat in one of the dining chairs staring at the photos, his fingers steepled under his chin in thought. Momentarily disrupting Sherlock's concentration, John dropped his jacket onto his armchair.

"I said, 'could you pass me a pen?'" Sherlock addressed him without looking away from the pictures. John frowned and looked around the living room in search of Adara but found she was not in the flat.

"What? When?" he asked in confusion.

"About an hour ago." Sherlock hummed. John sighed heavily.

"Didn't notice I'd gone out, then. If I was Adara you would have my absence timed down to the minute." John muttered, the last bit more under his breath. Picking up a pen from the table he tosses it in Sherlock's direction. Without looking away from his task, Sherlock snatched it out of the air. John turned to join him in looking at the photos on the mirror.

"Yea, I went to see a about a job at that surgery." John informed his roommate, looking over the photos.

"How was it?" Adara questioned, striding into the flat and walking over to the boys. John grinned slightly.

"It's great. She's great." John answered absently. Sherlock and Adara shared a glance.

"Who?" Sherlock inquired, staring at John in the mirror.

"The job." John bit his lips, turning to look at Sherlock properly.

"'She' John." Adara pointed out with a grin. John bit his cheek.

"….it." he amended. Sherlock eyed him in annoyance for a moment while Adara smothered her amused grin.

"Oh, don't you start." John scoffed, already knowing what she was thinking. Adara raised her hands passively but said nothing on the subject.

"Here, have a look." Sherlock suggested, tilting his head towards the laptop on the table. John hummed and headed over towards the web page Sherlock had gestured. 'Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for the police.' Was the headline of the article.

"The 'intruder who can walk through walls'." John read off the screen thoughtfully.

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked; windows bolted from the inside; exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock pointed out. John cocked his head back in surprise.

"God, you think…."

"He's killed another one." Sherlock confirmed, wringing his fingers in thought.

...

Shortly after the discovery Sherlock headed over to Scotland Yard. Dimmock sat at his desk, arms folded uncomfortably as Sherlock stood on the other side of his desk, typing into a laptop.

"Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat…." Sherlock turned the device around for Dimmock to read.

"…doors locked from the inside." He finished.

"You've got to admit that's similar." John pointed out. Dimmock scowled uncertainty at the article.

"Both men killed by someone who can…walk through solid walls." John hesitates, realizing that his statement was technically impossible. Dimmock shot him a look.

"Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another suicide?" Sherlock continued. Dimmock squirmed at his desk, unable to make eye contact or answer them. Adara sighed in annoyance.

"You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?" Sherlock pushed. Dimmock nodded minutely.

"And the shot that killed him. It was fired from his own gun?" Adara asked knowingly. Dimmock bit his lip reluctantly.

"No." he confirmed.

"No. So this investigation might move a bit quickly if you were to take our word as gospel." Sherlock barked in annoyance. Dimmock stared at them silently. Adara leaned down towards the man, whispering intently.

"Look I'm not going to have a repeat of the last time I was called in. We've just handed you a murder inquiry." She straightened back up watching Dimmock.

"Five minutes in his flat." Sherlock added.

...

...

Getting access to Brian Lukis's flat, Sherlock ducked under the police tape at the bottom of the stairs leading the way with the others trailing behind. As they ascended, he quickly eyes everything taking mental notes. Open suitcase by the door, black origami flower on the carpet, book scattered everywhere, several open newspapers. Walking by the kitchen he glanced out the window at the nearby rooftops of lower buildings. Pushing back the curtain he grins.

"Four floors up. That's why they think they're safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut. They think they're impregnable." Sherlock muttered.

"Classic." Adara muttered with a small grin. Sherlock looked down and shot her a mildly disapproving glace before walking past her to hide his smirk.

"They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." Adara pointed out, eyes glancing up towards the skylights over the landing.

"I don't understand." Dimmock muttered, following Sherlock around the flat.

"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Adara answered, watching as Sherlock went to investigate the skylight.

"What are you doing?" Dimmock questioned as Sherlock hopped up onto a small stool to reach the skylight.

"He clings to walls like an insect." Sherlock mused, pushing the window upwards with no effort.

"That's how he got in." he whispered delightedly.

"What?" Dimmock stared at the man as if he had grown a second head.

"Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through the skylight." Adara quickly answered. Everyone turned to stare at her. She shrugged innocently.

"I could be a bit off on the method, but the logic is sound." She assured, glancing away briefly.

"You're not serious. Like Spiderman?" Dimmock scoffed.

"He scaled six floors of a Dockland's apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon." Sherlock pointed out. Dimmock laughed in disbelief.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." The taller man continued easily. Sherlock stepped down off his stool and glanced around the room once more.

"We have to find out what connects these two men." He muttered aloud, his voice dropping an octave. Glancing around he spotted Adara already down the staircase, scanning over the titles of the books located there. She picked out one that had been haphazardly thrown and held it up. Walking over Sherlock takes the book out of her hand. Reading the first page, it reveals that the book had recently been borrowed from the West Kensington Library. Slamming it shut he grabs Adara and darts down the stairs.

...

After a brief taxi ride the trio find themselves at the West Kensington Library. Quickly scanning the book cover Sherlock heads in the direction the it had come from.

"Date stamped on the book is the same day he died." Adara commented for John's benefit as they rushed behind Sherlock. Double checking the reference number Sherlock scans the shelves for the correct placement on the row, pulling out books as he did. While he and John pull out books and sift through the pages, Adara spins around slowly. After a moment of thought she reached out for an opposing section of books than the ones they were searching, immediately finding what they were hoping for.

"Sherlock." She quietly alerted. Sherlock quickly turned and looked in the direction her eyes had locked onto. Reaching out to pull more books a larger image of spray paint is revealed. The markings match those found in the vandalized office for Van Coon.

...

...

The photographs from the library had been added to the collage on the living room mirror. The trio stood staring at them silently, all the facts coming into focus...somewhat.

"So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon; Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in. Hours later he dies." Sherlock surmises aloud.

"The killer finds Lukis at the library; he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it'll be seen; Lukis goes home." John added.

"Later that night, he dies too." Adara finished.

"Why did they die Sherlock?" John whispers curiously. Sherlock thoughtfully runs his fingers along the lines on the portrait.

"Only the cipher can tell us." He answers thoughtfully. He strokes the photo from the bank and taps it, his eyes running over the others trying to piece it all together.


	13. Backtracking

Early the next morning Adara walked out of Sherlock's room, smoothing out her freshly washed hair. She paused in the walkway, spotting Sherlock still wearing his clothes from yesterday, hair a bit disheveled; eyes still locked on the mirror with the photos. Adara sighed, continuing into the living room.

"I hoped you would have at least slept on the couch." She scolded gently. Sherlock blinked heavily before turning to face her.

"I got a few hours..." Adara stared at him pointedly.

"Define 'a few'." Sherlock grunted and went back to staring at the pictures.

"Two." He muttered, not needing to see the look of disapproval that was surely on her face. She rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen greeting John who was still waking up. Adara quietly made herself a cup of tea, taking a sip to check the taste before making a second cup for Sherlock. Wordlessly she made her way back over and held the tea in front of his face. Sherlock scowled at it, glancing up at her.

"Drink it. At least the caffeine will keep you going for a bit." She prodded. Sherlock pursed his lips in annoyance but took the cup anyway, meekly sipping on it. Pleased with his obedience she stood next to him staring at the photos. From the kitchen John watched the duo sip their tea in unison with great amusement while he made himself breakfast.

"Anything?" Adara finally asked, breaking the silence in the apartment. Sherlock growled under his breath.

"Nothing." He admitted, glaring at the offending code.

"I haven't heard anything yet" Adara added, checking her mobile just once more to be sure. Sherlock reached up to rub his eyes, disappointed with the lack of progress.

"Dearest I think it's time to reach out." Adara suggested. Sherlock shot a sharp glare up at her.

"Don't give me that look, we don't really have another option at this point." She chided, taking his now empty cup from him.

"Boys I think we need an outing. Get some fresh air." She announced, cleaning up her dishware. Sherlock grunted in displeasure as he got up from his seat, pulling on his coat. However Adara quickly jogged over to him and grabbed the neck of it, halting his movements. Sherlock glanced back at her indignantly.

"Clean yourself up first and then we can go. I'm not going to walk around with you all disheveled like this." Sherlock groaned dramatically, flinging his coat off and stomping to his bedroom childishly. Adara and John snickered in amusement as they watched the 'adult' throw a mild fit. Adara cut her eyes over to the shorter man pointedly. He raised his hands up in the air with a grin.

"No worries, you will get no complaints from me." He assured with another chuckle before heading off to his own room.

...

...

Once everyone was deemed presentable the trio made their way to Trafalgar Square, heading towards the National Gallery.

"The world runs on codes and ciphers, John. From the million-pound security system at the bank, to the PIN machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every waking moment." Sherlock explained as they swiftly made their way through the square.

"Yes, okay but…"

"…but it's all computer generated: electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It's an ancient device. Modern code breaking methods won't unravel it." Sherlock answered John's unspoken question.

"Where are we headed?" John questioned as they walked up the steps.

"I need to ask some advice." Sherlock sighed, not wanting to dwell on it.

"What?! Sorry?!" John sputtered, a grin breaking across his face. Sherlock threw him a withering look while John continues grinning in disbelief.

"You heard me perfectly. I'm not saying it again." Sherlock dryly retorted, clearly unhappy with the predicament.

"You need advice.?" John reiterated in clear amusement.

"On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert." Sherlock huffed, heading straight towards the entrance. John continued grinning as he followed after Sherlock and Adara. However, the grin was replaced by a confused frown as they took a sharp turn around the corner of the building. John followed them and his curiosity grew as they approached a young man who was spray painting on a service door of the museum. They looked over the image of a policeman with a pig snout, the man putting on the finishing touches with one of his many cans of spray-paint. Below the image was the man's signature 'RAZ'. Sherlock and Adara stood on the opposite side of the man, staring at his work.

"It's part of a new exhibition." Raz explained with a grin, not turning away from his work.

"Interesting." Sherlock droned, his tone contradicting the word choice.

"I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy." Raz continued, not bothered by the man's tone.

"Catchy." John smiled tensely.

"I've got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes around the corner." Raz told them, not looking up from his spray painting. Once satisfied he glances over at Sherlock and Adara.

"Can we do this while I'm workin?" he asks.

"Can you handle the multitasking?" Adara grins teasingly. Raz smirks at her and catches the phone she tossed his direction. In return Raz tosses on of his cans to John who barely catches it in surprise. John stared at Sherlock and Adara in bewilderment at what had just happened. Raz scans through the photos of the markings on her cell.

"Know the author?" Sherlock inquires.

"Recognize the paint. It's like Michigan; hardcore propellant. I'd say zinc." Raz rattles off as he leans against the door thoughtfully.

"What about the symbols; do you recognize them?" Adara inquires. Raz glances up at her before squinting at the photos.

"Not even sure it's a proper language." He mused. Sherlock glanced towards the end of the alley, knowing they were getting short on time.

"Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them." he pressed pointedly.

"What, and this is all you've got to go on? It's hardly much, now is it?" Raz countered.

"Raz, just get to the point. Are you going to help or not?" Adara scolded gently. Raz stared at them, licking his lips in thought.

"I'll ask around." He assured.

"Somebody must know something about it." Sherlock muttered, displeased at not getting immediate results. Adara glanced down at her wristwatch.

"Oops. I think we ran out of time." She hummed, snatching her phone out of Raz's hand just as the officers rounded the corner. Sherlock's head jerked up in surprise.

"Oi!" one of the men shouted at the group, instantly rushing towards them.

"Time to scatter." Adara instructed as three of them took off running in different directions…..All except for John who meekly turned towards the officer.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? The gallery is a listed public building." The officer scolded with a glare. John blanched.

"No, no, no, wait, wait. It's not me who painted that." John belatedly realized he was still holding the spray can.

"I was just holding this for.." he trailed off as he realized that the others had completely vanished. John sighed quietly as the officer opens up the duffle left by his feet to reveal more cans of paint. He looked up at John pointedly.

"Bit of an enthusiast, are we." The officer deadpans. John looked between the officers and the wall anxiously, wondering how this had all gone downhill so fast.

...

...

Back at Baker Street Sherlock is back at the fireplace, staring at the collage on the mirror that is now full of sheets of paper containing ciphers and pictographs. Sherlock was staring down at book, scanning the pages when the front door slammed as John returns in a huff. Immediately he makes his way to the living room, still amped up and angry. Sherlock addresses him without moving from his spot.

"You've been a while." He hums distractedly. John paces in the room, his body rigid. He slowly turned his head to glare at the back of Sherlock's head.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants don't really like to be hurried, do they?" John answered tightly. Adara watches with wide eyes as John continues pacing, a strained grin on his face.

"Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I've gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday." He rants tightly.

"What?" Sherlock asks blankly, looking up at the pages on the mirror.

"Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday. They're giving me an ASBO!" John angrily growled.

"Good. Fine." Sherlock mused, still not paying attention.

"You wanna tell your little pal he's welcome to go and own up any time." John continued through a clenched jaw.

"Oh Raz would never to that." Adara informed him easily from her seat in Sherlock's chair. John's eyes nearly bugged out. Before he could blow, Sherlock slammed his book shut.

"This symbol: I still can't place it." He huffed in annoyance. He turned to put the book down and walked over towards John who had started to take off his jacket. Sherlock reaches over and pulls it back over his shoulders.

"No, I need you to go to the police station…" John indignantly rounds on Sherlock, protesting childishly as the taller man steers him towards the door.

"…ask about the journalist." John huffs irritably and rolled his eyes.

"Oh Jesus.." he mutters in exasperation while Sherlock practically tosses him out of the flat.

"His personal effects will have been impounded. Get ahold of his diary, or something like that will tell his movements." Sherlock quickly explains while slinging on his own coat. Adara quietly trailed after and the three of them headed down the stairs, following Sherlock's rapid pace.

"We're gonna go and see Van Coon's P.A. if we retrace their steps, somewhere they'll coincide." Sherlock explained before stalking off down the street. Adara chuckled at his enthusiasm, however as she glanced across the street her grin dropped. Her eyes caught an oriental woman wearing dark glasses, holding up a camera in their direction. Adara turned to get a better look but in a split second the woman had disappeared when the taxi drove past and obstructed her vision.

"Adara! Are you coming or not?" Sherlock called, having finally realized she wasn't following. Adara nodded absently and swiftly began following after. Sherlock frowned as she joined him, noticing she was distracted. He glanced up and down the street finding nothing of interest. Pushing the interaction to the back of his mind he placed his hand on her lower back to guide her gently as they hurried down the sidewalk.

...

...

At the bank, Sherlock and Adara stand by Van Coon's assistant's desk as she looked over the man's online calendar.

"Flew back from Dalian, Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales teams." The assistant, Amanda, explained to them.

"Can you print up a copy?" Adara inquired politely. Amanda nodded in consent.

"What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?" Sherlock prodded.

"Sorry. Bit of a gap." Amanda shrugged, looking over the screen. Sherlock frowned at the blank date on the computer in displeasure.

"I have all his receipts." Amanda offered helpfully. She quickly pulled out the box from her drawer and spread out all the receipts on her desktop for the duo.

"What kind of boss was her, Amanda? Appreciative?" Sherlock inquired offhandedly. Amanda blinks at him in surprise before smiling wryly.

"Um, no. That's not the word I'd use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price tag." She explained to them. Sherlock knelt on the floor to get better access to the receipts as his height became an issue. Adara glanced around the woman's desk and tilted her head curiously as she spotted a bottle of luxury hand cream…same brand as Eddie had in his apartment.

"Like that expensive hand cream? He bought that for you, didn't he?" Adara pointed out, shooting the other woman a look. Amanda became flustered and nervously touched the pin in her hair. Adara smirked knowingly but didn't comment further. While the interaction was going on Sherlock read over the dates and titles on the receipts. One of them caught his attention and he picks it up to show Amanda.

"Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty." He read off.

"That would get him to the office." Amanda explained.

"Not at rush hour; Check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as…"

"The West End. I remember him saying." Amanda chimed in as she recalled a conversation. Sherlock pursed his lips in thought and reached for another ticket.

"Underground. Printed at 1 in Piccadilly." Sherlock read aloud.

"So, he got the tube back to the office that day." Adara mused. Amanda frowned and looked at the two of them.

"Why would he get a taxi to town and then take the tube back?" she inquired.

"He was delivering something heavy. Didn't want to carry it up the escalator. Lazy." Adara muttered as an answer while Sherlock continuing searching the receipts.

"Delivering?" Amanda muttered in confusion.

"To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package off, delivered it and then…." Adara caught sight of what Sherlock was looking for and pointed to the slip of paper. A receipt to an Espresso bar.

"…stopped on his way. He got peckish." He finished thoughtfully. Sherlock shot a glance up at Adara.

"Care buying me a drink, Sherlock? Say somewhere by Piccidilly Station?" she mused with a grin.

...

"When you said to buy you a drink…I assumed it was a figure of speech, not a literal request." Sherlock muttered sourly as he fidgeted in his seat, looking out the window. Adara grinned, sipping her fresh espresso lazily.

"Sherlock you really need to brush up on when women give you subtle hints." She commented pointedly. The man glowered at her.

"Well if the only woman I choose to associate with just tells me what she wants then I would have no problems." He countered, raising an eyebrow. Adara nodded thoughtfully.

"But you would get bored, so I don't see that happening anytime soon." She grinned broadly at his annoyed expression. A young barista approached the duo's table, interrupting their conversation.

"Excuse me miss, but the man at the bar told me to give this to you." he quickly muttered out, handing Adara the slip of paper before bolting away from Sherlock's scowl. Adara glanced across the room briefly, not too surprised that the bar was empty. She read over the short note.

**_Oriental_**_. _

"Well that doesn't narrow down much does it?" Sherlock snipped as she flashed the message to him. Adara rolled her eyes, standing up to leave.

"It was the best he could do on short notice and on the contrary it crosses off quite a few choices. Not many people use hand written ciphers nowadays." She defended easily. Sherlock huffed.

"He just doesn't like me and refuses to give true information." Adara gently patted his chest in mock sympathy.

"Sherlock, he doesn't dislike you…." Sherlock shot her a bland look.

"….he just likes me more." She finished with a coy grin. Sherlock's lip curled in displeasure but didn't counter that point.

"Now that we have wasted enough time getting espresso…" he huffed pointedly at Adara while whipping out the receipts from Van Coon. Adara trailed after the man as he dove headfirst into the case once more, muttering his thoughts aloud.

"So you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you…." Sherlock mumbled to himself, spinning around erratically before nearly bowling a stranger over. Grunting in surprise he whips around to find John who had his nose buried in Lukis' diary. The two men look up at one another curiously.

"Right." John grunted.

"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died; whatever was hidden inside that case. I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information…" Sherlock blurted out rapidly…..not noticing that John was trying to input his own discovery. John's mouth opened and closed numerous times, trying to find a good stopping point in Sherlock's ramblings.

"Sherlock…"

"…credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here."

"Sherlock..."

"Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I don't know where, but…" John rolled his eyes in annoyance, pointing down at the book in his hands.

"That shop over there." Adara cut Sherlock off, pointing across the street. Sherlock looked at the building, at John, then back at her with a frown.

"How can you tell?" he asked skeptically.

"Well both men came this way. And its oriental looking, fits the bill for a package drop-off from China." She shrugged.

"She's right. It's also in Lukis' diary. He was here and wrote down the address." John confirmed, showing the taller man the book in his hands. John closed it and started making his way towards the shop.

"Oh" Sherlock muttered, following after.

"Devil is in the details….or in your case the very obvious address written in the book you neglected to look at." Adara hummed smugly. Sherlock chose to ignore her for the moment.

...

The three of them made their way into the touristy shop filled with all sizes of 'lucky cats'. John politely greeted the shop owner as they fanned out to examine the knick knacks and look for a lead. As they peruse the shop, the small lady picks up one of the waving cats.

"You want lucky cat?" she inquires, looking at John intently.

"No, thanks. No." John politely declines.

"Ten pound. Ten pound." The shop lady insists.

"No." John uncomfortably protests once more.

"I think your wife, she will like!"

"No, thank you." Adara watches the two in amusement before going back to her examination of the small bowls and cups. She gently lifts one of the cups up and flips it over to see the tag on the bottom. Her eyes light up as she sees the same symbol that was painted next to the portrait and on the shelf in the library.

"Sherlock, look at this." she quietly calls, diverting his attention from the small statues. Sherlock comes to look over her shoulder at the markings.

"It's exactly the same as the cipher." She commented, glancing up at him with a grin. Sherlock nods in agreement, realization starting to dawn on him as he puts the pieces together.


	14. Close Encounter

Leaving the shop, the trio began walking down the street.

"It's an ancient number system. Hangzhou." Sherlock explained as they swiftly made their way down the street, the pieces finally coming into place in his mind.

"These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library." He rambled, heading towards the food market. All over were the same symbols on items and signs alongside the English versions. Sherlock paused, looking through the signs on the produce and the signs nearby.

"Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect." Sherlock summarized. John spotted a familiar scribble by one of the vegetables.

"It's a fifteen! What we thought was the artist's tag, it's a number fifteen." John informed, looking over at Sherlock.

"And the blindfold; the horizontal line? That was a number as well." Adara added, reaching over for a tag that matched.

"The Chinese number one." She beamed, displaying it to the boys.

"We've found it!" John cheered. Sherlock turned, with the other two following after him. Adara's eyes flitted to the side casually when she paused as someone caught her eye. Before she could fully turn to get a better look, the person was gone, leaving her with a wary feeling.

"Adara are you coming?" John questioned, glancing back at her.

"Yea…." She trailed off, narrowing her eyes as she looked up and down the street before following after them.

...

...

Soon they found themselves at a café across the street from the Lucky Cat store they were just in. They all sat at a corner table that had a direct line of sight to the shop. Sherlock was writing down the Hangzhou numbers alongside the English equivalents onto one of the paper napkins. John sat across from him writing down his own notes. Adara was between the two, lounging in her chair listening to them think aloud.

"Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see?" John mused aloud.

"It's not what they saw; it's what they both brought back in those suitcases." Adara corrected. Sherlock nodded absently, folding up the napkin with his notes.

"And you don't mean duty free." John quipped. The waitress came by to drop of food for John and Adara. Sherlock as usual had nothing.

"Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon, about how he stayed afloat in the markets." Sherlock pointed out, leaning his arms on the table to talk with them quietly.

"Lost five million…"

"…and made it back in a week." Sherlock finished John's thought. John nodded as he began digging into his food.

"That's how he made such easy money." Adara hummed.

"He was a smuggler." John mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"A guy like him, it would have been perfect."

"Quite clever. Businessman, making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same, a journalist writing about China." Adara surmised. John continued nodding along as he ate. Adara smirked at him, while she took a small bite of her own meal.

"Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off." Sherlock continued, staring absently at the shop.

"But why did they die? I mean, it doesn't make sense. If they both turn up at the shop and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they'd finished the job?" John asked in confusion. Sherlock paused at that, leaning in his chair thoughtfully. After a few moments of thought he smiled, realizing the answer.

"What if one of them was light-fingered?" he suggested.

"How do you mean?"

"What if they stole something." Adara rephrased.

"And the killer doesn't know which of them took it, so he threatens them both. Right." John summarized. Sherlock stared back at the shop once more. He frowned, noticing door right next to the shop. A Yellow Pages was still wrapped and sitting by the door, signifying that someone was living there.

"Remind me….when was the last time that it rained?" Sherlock inquired. Without waiting for the answer, he stood up and left. John sat back in his seat in exasperation, staring down at his barely eaten food.

"Don't worry I can make something up tonight." Adara gently assured, getting up to follow after Sherlock. John rolled his eyes and got up to chase after them once more.

...

...

Sherlock bent down next to a Yellow Pages by the door to the flat above. The plastic was still wet, and the corner had been ripped. He ran his fingers over the exposed paper.

"It's been here since Monday." He informed, knowing the others had caught up to him. Adara pressed the doorbell labeled 'Soo Lin Yao' as Sherlock straightened back up. Waiting a few seconds they realized no one was coming to the door. Peering down the adjoining ally, Adara led the way towards a fire escape.

"No-ones been in that flat for at least three days." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully.

"Could've gone on holiday." John suggested.

"Do you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" Adara queried, pointing up at the open window to the flat. Glancing around Sherlock spotted the raised ladder attached to the fire escape. He gestured towards it, looking at Adara.

"After you." He suggested. Adara shot him a dry look.

"Do you want me to break an ankle trying to jump in these boots?" she shot back, lightly lifting her foot up to display her heeled bootie. Sherlock pursed his lips in displeasure.

"It wouldn't be the first time." He countered. Adara nodded. John silently watched the couple in amusement.

"Yes, but that was in sneakers which are much more stable. Besides, you're the tallest and therefore the most likely to grab it on the first go." She countered. Sherlock grumbled and reluctantly began taking a few steps back for his running start.

"Will leap over buildings in the damn boots but refuses to jump for an over-hanging ladder." He muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Adara smirked at him and stood aside while Sherlock made the leap. Grabbing the end of the ladder he jerked on it, pulling it down to the ground. Without waiting he climbed up the stairs, only for the ladder to swing back into its original upright position when he reached the landing.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, eyeing the ladder that was much too high for him.

"We will wait by the door for you." Adara suggested, ushering John back down the alleyway towards the front entrance. Without looking back Sherlock continued his trek, climbing through the window into the kitchen. He yelped in alarm as he almost knocks over the vase of flowers, snatching it out of the air just before it hit the carpet. Setting the vase down he frowns at the carpet below, eyeing the wet patch.

"Someone else has been here!" Sherlock called, not thinking that the other two might not be able to hear him.

"Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did." He muttered aloud. Stalking through the small flat he reached out to open the washing machine. Inside he sniffs and grimaces at the slightly moldy smell of the clothes left behind. Outside John rings the doorbell but it is ignored as Sherlock continues his investigations.

"Do you think maybe you could let us in this time?" John shouted from outside. Sherlock fingered some of the towels in the kitchen.

"Can you not keep doing this please?" John calls irritably, lifting the letterbox open so he could be heard better. Sherlock continues to ignore the calls and sniffs the milk in the fridge.

"I'm not the first." Sherlock finally yells back in response.

...

Outside Adara frowned, leaning closer to the door as she couldn't quite hear what was said over the noise in the street.

"What?" she asks.

"Somebody's been in here before me!" Sherlock reiterates louder this time.

"What is he saying?" John inquires, looking to Adara who shrugged.

...

Sherlock kneels down next to a shift in the rug where someone's foot had messed it up.

"Size eight feet." he muttered, holding up his pocket magnifier. He stands back up, pushing through the beaded curtain separating the kitchen and living room.

"Small, but….athletic." he continued muttering, as he followed the steps.

...

Outside John growls in frustration.

"I'm wasting my breath." He muttered in exasperation. Pacing in front of the door he turns back to aggressively ring the doorbell again.

...

Inside, Sherlock pics up a photograph of two Chinese children, a boy and a girl. He eyes the fresh hand print on the glass, where someone pressed their fingers against the image of the girl. Sherlock held up his magnifier over the prints.

"Small, strong hands. Our acrobat." He muses softly. Frowning Sherlock looks back around the small space.

"But why didn't he close the window when he left?..." he trailed off, closing his eyes in annoyance at himself. Realizing his mistake.

"Oh, stupid. Stupid. Obvious…..He's still here." Slowly looking around, Sherlock spots a folding screen in front of the bed. Placing the magnifier back into his pocket he quietly stalked towards the screen. Reaching forward slowly and carefully he jerks it back…to find nothing. Just as he starts to relax someone from behind wraps a long scarf around his throat, cutting off his airway. Sherlock jolts in surprise as the attacker wraps the scarf tighter around his windpipe and drags the tall man to the floor. Desperately Sherlock grabs at the fabric in an attempt to gain some air back. However, the assailant continues to toss him around, strangling him.

...

Unaware of the situation John bends down to the letterbox opening again; Adara leaning against the door frame with a frown.

"Any time you want to include us" John snaps in displeasure.

...

Inside Sherlock gurgles quietly.

"John! Adara!" he tried but the sound is muffled by his lack of air.

...

Downstairs John grins mirthlessly at the door.

"No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no-one else can compete with…my massive intellect!" John mocked, angrily shouting back into the letterbox on the last two words. Adara smiled in amusement but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Instead she stared at the door, wondering why it was taking so long.

...

Meanwhile Sherlock continues to struggle but his movements become more sluggish as his air remains cut off for a longer period of time. As his hands fall away from the scarf, seconds away from passing out, the attacker lets him go. The persistent ringing of the doorbell barely registers as Sherlock blinks, trying not to sink into unconsciousness. The attacker shoves something into his coat pocket, disappearing while Sherlock is left on the floor coughing and sputtering as he tries to take in as much air as possible. Rolling onto his front Sherlock shakily makes it up onto his hands and knees. Pulling the scarf off his neck, he greedily gasps for air. In a few moments Sherlock regains his brain function and sits back on his heels, rummaging in his coat pocket. He pulls out a black origami flower and stares at it, knowing the implications of said flower. Quickly pocketing the flower once more Sherlock stumbles to his feet and pulls himself together in an attempt to be presentable as he heads for the door downstairs.

...

John sputters in exasperation and glares at the man as the door finally opens. Instantly Adara narrows her eyes, taking notice of the difference in his shaky bearing.

"The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left in a hurry three days ago." Sherlock croaked out rapidly.

"Somebody?" John inquired, with a frown Adara takes a step forward, reaching for Sherlock's neck that was covered by his scarf and coat collar. He bats her hand away, still explaining the situation.

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her." he nodded; voice still scratchy. When John glanced away, Sherlock shot a warning look towards the blonde woman beside him.

"But how exactly?" John asked. Adara knelt down and picked up a folded envelope in on the floor. Turning it over she read the inscription silently, holding it out for Sherlock to read.

**Soo Lin,**

**Please ring me**

**Tell me you're OK**

**Andy**

At the bottom of the envelope was the label: National Antiquities Museum.

"Maybe we could start with this." Sherlock suggests, walking out and closing the door behind him. He quickly darts down the street, avoiding Adara's hands and eye contact.

"You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?" John asks in concern.

"I'm fine." Sherlock coughed sternly.

...

...

The trio made their way to the National Antiquities Museum. As John led the way to the front desk to inquire about 'Andy' Adara took the opportunity to yank Sherlock into a more secluded area. The tall man yelped quietly in surprise at the force which his arm was yanked. He said nothing as she weaved through the halls and pillars until they reached a small alcove, hidden from sight.

"What happened in the flat?" she inquired without listening to his grumbles of protest. Sherlock pursed his lips.

"I found signs that someone else had been in there. Nothing happened." He explained briefly. Adara narrowed her eyes at him.

"Take off your scarf." She demanded. The man blanched before rolling his eyes stubbornly.

"I don't think this is the time for you to disrobe me." He muttered sourly.

"That is not what this is and you know it. We are inside…so why don't you take it off?" she pressed, not falling for his antics. Sherlock didn't move. In a flash Adara reached down to pinch him hard on the thigh. Instinctively Sherlock reached down to defend himself; exactly what she had been planning on. As he leaned down and put his head near her own, Adara reached over and unwrapped his scarf.

"Wha….Get your hands off me you crazy woman!" he adamantly protested, his wrist having to be restrained as he tried to fight her off. Before he knew it, his neck had been exposed and Adara was staring at the thin bruise that was starting to appear around his throat.

"Sherlock! What is this?" she whispered, gently reaching out to touch the sensitive skin. He blushed, refusing to look at her as she fluttered about his injury affectionately.

"Ok, now what really happened?" Adara prompted again, much gentler this time.

"The killer was still inside, caught me by surprise and left this in my pocket." Sherlock explained evenly, holding out the flower for her to see. Adara frowned as she thought on his explanation. Her eyes closed in realization.

"The window….it was still open because they had just gotten there." She whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm so stupid, how could I miss that?" Adara huffed. Sherlock's lips quirked up and he reached out to squeeze her hand.

"Honest mistake. We can't all be observational geniuses." He tried to placate. Her face scrunched up at the underhanded compliment but she reluctantly grinned at his attempt to comfort her. After a beat she frowned, before staring up at him suspiciously.

"You said you were caught by surprise….you didn't know they were in there either did you?" she accused.

"Of course, I noticed." Sherlock quickly defended. If it were anyone else they would have taken his word for it…but…..

"No, you didn't you just lied." She instantly retorted, taking her hand out of his to cross her arms. Sherlock stared at her blankly.

"I didn't."

"Yes you did, you blinked three times successively when you made your claim." Sherlock stared at her.

"Fine I didn't know, happy?" he asked sourly, roughly taking his scarf back and walking away in a huff. Adara snickered behind him, teasing him further.

"Honest mistake, dear. We can't all be observational geniuses" Sherlock shot a withering glare over his shoulder at the familiar words. Adara simply smirked in response to his ire.

"Daft woman." He muttered grumpily, choosing to ignore Adara as she tried to quiet her giggles.

"You know your little stunt back there would be classified as domestic abuse. I could report you." Sherlock gripped.

"Oh don't be a baby. Besides who would you call… Lestrade, Mycroft?" she scoffed, knowing his threat was empty.

"Both of them would applaud me in keeping you in line." Adara added, taking longer strides to match his own swift pace. Sherlock side eyed her.

"I don't need to be kept in line. I'm not a child." He hissed defensively.

"Then stop acting like one."

...

The two soon found their way to the display area where John was meeting with Andy.

"Where have you two been?" John whispered as he watched them approach from another section of the museum.

"Just about….now I presume you are Andy, who left the note at Soo Lin's" Sherlock quickly redirected, looking to the young brunette by the displays. Andy nodded timidly.

"When was the last time that you saw her?" Sherlock inquired.

"Three days ago, um here at the museum." Andy answered, with his hands in his pockets. He watched as Sherlock and Adara idly wandered around the room. Adara eyed the glass case showing some clay teapots; paying close attention to the only shiny one amid the dull pots. She frowned at it curiously.

"This morning they told me she resigned just like that." Andy further explained, grabbing Adara's attention back. Sherlock glanced around the room at the Asian figurines and artworks.

"Just left her work unfinished." Andy continued, looking at John who was the only one staying still. Sherlock turned to look at the man.

"What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?"

...

Andy led the group down to the archives, turning on the light as they entered the large room.

"She does this demonstration for the tourists. A-a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here." Andy explained, leading them to an open section of shelves. He reached over and turned the handle next to it, opening the section of shelves wider. Sherlock looked around the room and his interest was piqued by a large statue that was covered by shadows at the far side of the basement. Stalking closer to it, he realized the link to the rest of the homicides. On the statue was a gold horizontal line across the eyes of the woman, and the figure eight squiggle painted on the center or the torso. John, Adara, and Andy slowly turned and frowned at the markings. There was still one more hit put out.

...

...

It was dark out by the time Sherlock, John and Adara finished in the museum.

"We have to get to Soo Lin Yao." Sherlock instructed as they swiftly walked down the stairs of the building.

"If she's still alive." John pointed out.

"Sherlock!" another voice catches the groups attention. Looking over they spot Raz running over towards them.

"Oh, look who it is." John muttered sourly.

"Found something you'll like." Raz informed, with a grin. Without further explanation he took off in the opposite direction with Sherlock and Adara close behind. John followed a bit more reluctantly.


	15. The Spider

"Tuesday morning, all you gotta do is turn up and say the bag was yours." John commented irritably, looking over at their informant. The group swiftly made their away across the bridge, following Raz.

"Forget about your court date." Sherlock scolded. John pursed his lips. Adara took a double take as the passed a group of people. Although not having the time to really key in on faces she dismissed her feeling of déjà vu and continued on beside Sherlock. After crossing the bridge, Raz led them into a skate park.

"If you want to hide a tree, then a forest is the best place to do it wouldn't you say? People would just walk right past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message." Sherlock surmised as he glanced around at the plethora of layered graffiti covering every inch of the cement park. Raz pointed to a particular section of the back wall.

"There. I spotted it earlier." He explained. Adara stepped closer to the writing, eyeing the yellow Chinese figures, most of which were already buried beneath other graffiti art.

"They have been in here. And this is the exact same paint?" she inquired, looking to Raz for confirmation.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"If we're going to decipher this code, we're gonna need to look for more evidence." Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. Adara pursed her lips and eyed the exits to the skate park.

"The railway. Easiest to slip around unnoticed, chance of quick transportation." She suggested, pointing toward the opening at the far side of the park. Sherlock nodded absently and began marching that direction.

"Thanks, Raz." Adara smiled, touching the man's arm gently before taking off after him with John at her side.

...

...

The three of them split up to search around the rail yards. Sherlock walked along the rail-line and spotted an empty spray can left on the tracks. Squatting to pick it up he put the end of his flashlight in his mouth and ran a thumb over the yellow paint left on the nozzle. He sniffed it curiously. Looking up once more his eyes roamed over the surfaces nearby. Someone had used the can recently.

...

Meanwhile Adara makes her way past some walls with graffiti and posters all over it. Pausing by one she reads of the information before deciding to tear off a piece of it to take with her.

...

John shines his flashlight across another section of railway, pausing when he spots splashes of yellow paint along the tracks. Following the smudges, he raises the light up onto the brick wall of a small storage building. Stepping back to get a wider beam, his mouth drops open in shock as he looks over the yellow symbols that take over the entire wall.

...

Adara glides up beside Sherlock as he paces down a set of tracks.

"Found this. I thought it was quite the coincidence." She hummed, holding out the piece of paper for him. He stared down at the information, his eyes furrowing as he thought through the possibilities. Before he could say anything on the matter the sound of feet running towards them caught their attention. John panted as he jogged over towards them.

"Answer your phone! I've been calling you! I've found it." He huffed tiredly, turning back in the direction he had previously come from. Sherlock and Adara shared a look and chased after him.

"Your phone is never on silent." Adara muttered as they jogged after John. Sherlock pursed his lips and shot her a warning glare; to which she rolled her eyes at him.

...

John led them back to where all the markings were found, but this time it was completely blank.

"It's been painted over." John muttered in surprise. Sherlock shined his flashlight over the blank space while John continued gaping at it. Adara turned in a slow circle, seeing if anyone was still around.

"I don't understand. It..it was here….ten minutes ago. I saw it! A whole load of graffiti!" John insisted.

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock muttered. Suddenly he grabbed the sides of John's head with both hands.

"Hey, Sherlock what are you doing?!" John shot an utterly confused look over at Adara. She shrugged, watching the two with mild amusement.

"Shhh, John. Concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes." Sherlock instructed sternly.

"No, what? Why? Why?" John asked incredulously. Sherlock frowned, lowering his arms to grab the man's shoulders.

"What are you doing?!" Without answering Sherlock begins spinning them both around, staring intensely at John. Adara blinked in amusement as she watched the two grown men spin in circles. John had his head cocked back, staring at Sherlock as if he had lost his mind.

"I need you to maximize your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?" Sherlock drills as they continue spinning.

"Yeah."

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely." John assured easily.

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes!"

"How much can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry…" Sherlock eyes him skeptically as he continues spinning.

"Because the average human memory on visual matters is only 62 percent accurate."

"Yeah, well, don't worry. I remember all of it." John insisted. Sherlock was not convinced.

"Really? Because the only person I know of beside me who would remember something like that is Adara." He countered.

"Yeah, well at least I would…." John grumbled, yanking himself free.

"…if I can get to my pockets!" he shot Sherlock a glare and dug into his pockets, pulling out his cell.

"I took a photograph." John explained, finding the photo and showing the two of them.

"Brilliant!" Adara laughed. John grinned at her praise as he watched Sherlock sheepishly take the phone from his hands.

...

...

Early the next morning the photograph from John's phone had been printed out and blown up so it could be divided up into multiple photos. The photos were now stuck to the mirror and labelled with the corresponding numbers. Sherlock glared at the photos, standing in front of the fireplace.

"Always in pairs, John." He muttered. John jolted awake from where he had been dozing off at the small desk in the living room. He blinked and turned to squint at Sherlock.

"Hmm?" he hummed dazedly.

"Numbers come with partners." Sherlock reiterated easily. John gazed around blankly, realizing he had missed quite a bit.

"God, I need to sleep." He whispered dazedly. Adara smiled at him sympathetically from across the table. She was already used to Sherlock's lack of rest during a case. John was just now being introduced to it. She slid an extra cup of coffee across towards him. John nodded and sipped on the drink, hoping it would kick in.

"Why did he paint it so near the tracks?" Sherlock mused aloud, completely ignoring what else was going on in the room.

"No idea." John answered tiredly.

"Thousands of people pass by there every day."

"Just 20 minutes." John whispered, rubbing his face hard. Adara smiled in amusement at how they easily held one sided conversations.

"Exactly Sherlock. Among those thousands are just the people he would need." Adara pointed out from her spot. She sipped quietly on her own cup of coffee, using the caffeine to stay awake. Sherlock was simply running on adrenaline as usual.

"Of course!" Sherlock beamed, shooting her an appreciative glance. Adara nodded.

"He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever is stolen, he wants it back." Sherlock surmised with a grin. Eagerly he bolted forward, running his fingers over the symbols thoughtfully.

"Somewhere in the code." He muttered. Realizing where this was going Adara sighed and walked over to grab the photographs containing the numbers.

"We need Soo Lin Yao. Off to the museum we go boys." She announced, not glancing back to make sure they followed. Sherlock had chased after her the moment she took his photos while John mumbled grouchily before plodding behind after them.

...

...

At the National Antiquities Museum, the group met back up with Andy who they had talked to just last night.

"Two men who traveled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals." Sherlock explained.

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger. Now, that cipher….it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well." John told Andy, getting to the important part. Andy scratched his head and frowned.

"Look, I've tried everywhere. Friends, colleagues. I..I don't know where she's gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away." Andy lamented. Sherlock huffed in exasperation. Adara glared at him and smacked his arm chidingly. As she turned her head away, her gaze locked on one of the display cabinets she had seen yesterday.

"What?" Sherlock muttered, watching her frown at the pots in the display. He followed after her silently as she took a few steps closer.

"What are you looking at?" John asked.

"Tell me about those teapots." Sherlock requested, gesturing to the ones Adara was eyeing. Andy walked over to join them.

"Th..the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If…if they dry out, then the clay will start to crumble. Apparently, you just have to keep making tea in them." Andy explained, watching them curiously. Adara hummed.

"It would seem someone has been. Yesterday only one of them was shining. Now there are two." She looked back at Sherlock knowingly.

...

...

That night a small set of fingers lace through the grating at the bottom of the wall, carefully pushing it outwards. Soo Lin crawls out of the ventilation and makes her way over to the glass display case housing the teapots and takes it to the restoration room. A tall figure watches from the shadows behind her. Soo Lin picks up the teapot and begins making the tea, pouring it into a pair of cups. She gently swirls the pot around so the liquid coats the pot, inside and out. Suddenly the figure steps up beside her.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?" she gasps in fright and drops the pot in her hands. As if anticipating the reaction Sherlock swoops down and catches it before it hits the ground. He looks up at her in mild amusement.

"Centuries old. Don't wanna break that." He points out, straightening out and handing the pot back to her. She gingerly takes it from his hand. Sherlock reaches out and turns the lamp on to shed more light in the room. He grins at her.

"Hello."

"Sherlock! You don't need to frighten the woman any more than she already is." Adara scolded as she made her way into the room to join them. Soo Lin eyed the duo warily.

"Hello Soo Lin. We need to chat." Adara told her gently.

...

Once John had joined them he took a spot across the table from the Soo Lin, while Adara had claimed a seat beside her. Sherlock opted to sit at the end of the table.

"You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me." Soo Lin told them.

"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Adara pointed out.

"I had to finish….to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me." The woman countered, her brow furrowing in worry.

"Who is he? Have you met him before?" Sherlock inquired. Soo Lin nodded.

"When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognized his….signature." she explained after a beat.

"The cipher." Sherlock elaborated.

"Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu." She explained.

"Zhi Zhu?" John asked in confusion.

"The spider." Adara translated, shooting her eyes over to John before returning her attention back to the smaller woman. Soo Lin crossed her foot over her knee and unlaced her shoe. Taking it off she revealed a black lotus flower within a circle tattooed on her heel. Adara straightened up as she looked at it. Soo Lin watched her reaction curiously.

"You know this mark?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Adara nodded.

"The mark of the Tong." Adara answered. John frowned in confusion.

"Ancient crime syndicate based in China." Sherlock elaborated. John nodded in understanding, looking back at Soo Lin.

"Every foot soldier bears the mark; everyone who hauls for them." Soo Lin explained.

"Hauls?" John asked for clarification.

"John…" Adara hummed, wishing for him to pick up on it faster than he was. The man frowned at Adara before turning to the other woman who gave him a pointed stare. His eyes widened in realization.

"Y-You mean you were a smuggler?" he asked. Soo Lin lowered her gaze, putting her shoe back on.

"I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses." She told them.

"Who are they?" Sherlock asked gently.

"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England." Her lips quirked up in a sad smile as she looked around the room thoughtfully.

"They gave me a job here. Everything was good; a new life."

"Then he came looking for you." Adara supplied. Soo Lin looked over at her with tears and paused as she saw the look of complete understanding on her face.

"You know." She realized. John frowned and glanced between the two of them. Adara smiled wryly.

"You never fully walk away from a life like that. It finds ways of catching up." She nodded. John's frown deepened even further. What was she talking about? Soo Lin swallowed thickly, her tears spilling over.

"I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours…they are never very far away." She explained, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

"He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen."

"And you have no idea what it was?" John inquired. Soo Lin shook her head.

"I refused to help." She told him. John leaned forward.

"So, you knew him well when you were living back in China?" Soo Lin nodded.

"Oh yes." She looked up at Sherlock.

"He's my brother. Two orphans, we had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars." Soo Lin explained.

"My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan. The Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I betrayed him. Next day I came to work, and the cipher was waiting." Adara frowned sadly, hurting for her. Sherlock reached into his pocket and laid out the photographs containing the ciphers.

"Can you decipher these?" he asked. Soo Lin leaned forward.

"These are numbers." She told him.

"Yes, I know." Sherlock pointed out.

"Here, the line across the man's eyes. It's the Chinese number one." Soo Lin pointed out. Sherlock pointed to the one next to it.

"And this one is fifteen. But what's the code?" he redirected.

"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book…." Suddenly almost all the lights in the building went out. Soo Lin looks around in horror while other three rise and glance around the room on alert.

"He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me." Soo Lin whispered fearfully. Sherlock takes off across the room. Left behind, John calls after him in an urgent whisper but it goes unanswered as Sherlock disappears with his coat billowing behind him.

"Sh-Sherlock wait!" Adara swiftly stood up and grabbed Soo Lin's wrist gently.

"This way." she gestured towards a small side closet, tugging Soo Lin along with her. John followed closely behind

"Get in. Get in!" he urges.

...

Meanwhile Sherlock sprints across a large open room, staircases at each end leading to the balcony above. He stops in the center, his head flitting around rapidly. Behind him a figure runs across the balcony, shooting a handgun at him. Sherlock turns and runs the opposite direction, flinging himself to the floor and sliding to safety behind a statue. The figure fires a few more shots his direction while Sherlock scrambles into a safer position.

...

Back in restoration, John perks up in alarm at the sound of gunfire. He turns to girls.

"I have to go and help. Bolt the door after me." He instructs before hurrying off. Behind him Soo Lin's face fills with dread. Once John is out the door, Adara locks it behind him and turns to look around the small room.

"Well there's no sense in us staying here unarmed." She hummed thoughtfully. Sifting through the contents of the room. A hum of satisfaction escaped her lips as she finds something. Soo Lin watched Adara curiously as the tall woman pulled out a long piece of metal piping.

"This will do quite nicely." She grinned deviously, gripping her new weapon.

...

John cautiously made his way into the large room, ducking for cover behind a column when more shots were fired. The figure ran back across the balcony and disappeared. Once the firing stops, Sherlock popped out from his hiding place and takes off across the room and up the stairs after him. John looked around his column at the other end of the room while Sherlock reaches the top of the stairs. The taller man races around the corner and turns into another display room. As he enters the hooded figure pops out of hiding and shoot at him again. Sherlock quickly ducks behind a display cabinet.

"Careful!" he shouts indignantly as the shooting continues.

"Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!" he shouts. The shooting stops.

"Thank you." Sherlock pauses to catch his breath, frowning as he takes in the new silence of the room. Slowly he peers around the glass case and the man is gone.

...

Back in restoration, Soo Lin looks around anxiously while Adara stands by the door.

"Stay here." She whispered. Slipping out the door, Adara closed it behind her. She stands with her back against the door and long pipe in hand. Her eyes flit around in the silence as she glanced at both entrances. Thinking through everything she knew about Zhi Zhu she glanced up along the ceiling decor. A small grin graced her features.

"They say there's no honor among thieves, but I don't see why we can't be civil here." She called out calmly. The figure by the ceiling vent tilted his head. Adara took a step forward before she swung her weapon between her hands with expert precision. She whirled it around with deadly force before bringing it to a stop at her side, splitting her legs apart as she prepared for confrontation. Her eyes narrowed as she watched his hand twitch to his side….for his gun no doubt.

"Forgo the weapon. Let's settle this on equal ground…..a duel if you will?" she taunted. Her heart hammered in her chest, hoping that he would take the bait. In all honestly, he could just shoot her but she had hoped that the Tong had some sort of honor code to fall back on. The figure dropped down to the floor, setting his weapon on one of the desks beside him. Reaching to his thighs he pulled out a pair of sticks before linking them together, making his own bo-staff.

"Well dammit…..didn't think you'd have one too." Adara muttered under her breath. Swallowing she readied her own weapon, holding it across her chest. The man followed. In one swift movement Adara lunged forward, swinging her pipe down and across. Zhi Zhu dodged her attack before swinging out one of his own, which Adara blocked easily. Thus, a flurry of swinging and movement ensued as the duo dueled acrobatically across the room. Adara kept her movements on the offensive, never letting is counter attacks slow her down. If she paused for a moment, she knew he would take advantage.

Realizing she had backed herself against a corner of the room, Adara turned sprinting towards the wall. As he struck out towards her, she leapt into the air and pushed off the wall. Adara back flipped over the man's head and landed somewhat gracefully behind him. She led out a huff of exertion, a grin spread across her face in triumph. The man spun in surprise and furiously began swinging his staff at her. Adara managed to spin them around as she blocked his frenzied swings. She led him towards the closest desk, hoping to trap him. However, Zhi Zhu back-flipped onto a tabletop with Adara's pipe following his movements. However, before she made contact he leapt into the air and did multiple aerial spins before landing behind her, twirling his staff in the air. Adara glared at him tiredly.

"Ok, not everyone is a professional." She lamented irritably. The man's head ticked to the side, almost as if amused behind his mask.

...

In the closet Soo Lin clenched her eyes shut in fear as she heard the fight just outside the door, flinching at each clang of metal and grunt of exertion. Taking a shaky breath, she started crawling out of her hiding place. Glancing towards the two still battling she made her way over towards the closest desk. On it lay the forgotten photos and papers that Sherlock had brought. She used the desk to pull herself into a standing position. The movement caught the other's eyes.

"Soo Lin? What are…" Adara turned her head slightly in surprise…she paused her movements. As she predicted, Zhi Zhu took immediate advantage and struck the side of her head. Adara's head snapped forcefully to the side as the rest of her body spun with it. She dropped to the floor instantly. With his opponent gone the man silently approached, stopping just in front of Soo Lin. In turn she gazed up at him gently. Her eyes soft and sad, Soo Lin reached out to cup her brother's cheek, peeling his mask and hood away so she could properly look at him.

...

Across the museum John continued searching for Sherlock when a single gunshot rang out. Whipping around, his face falls into horror as he realizes where the shot came from.

"Oh my god." He muttered before racing back to the restoration room. Entering, he slowed his gait and looks around cautiously. Making his way across the room his eyes frantically look around in the darkness before he froze. Groaning in guilt he stares down at Soo Lin, who now lies dead across the table with a black lotus flower in her hand. Closing his eyes in grief he glances around for the other woman he left behind.

"Adara?" John quietly called. Getting no reply, he began circling around the room in search of her. After passing a couple desks he finds who he was looking for….unresponsive and face down on the floor.


	16. Book Code

Down at Scotland Yard, John and Sherlock stood behind Dimmock as he rummages through some paperwork, ignoring their presence.

"How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John asks sharply. Dimmock turned and promptly walked between them to his desk. John follows, not letting him get out of the conversation. Sherlock trailed behind, unusually subdued as his mind wanders to the one missing from the room. Adara had been taken to the hospital immediately after she had been found. She had gained consciousness long enough to tell Sherlock to get out so he could finish the case. While listening to her advice, it didn't stop him from being distracted by her absence.

"A young girl was gunned down tonight. And my friend is in the hospital because she attempted to defend her. That's three, almost four victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him." John insisted heatedly. Sherlock made his way in front of John who had backed away in exasperation with the Detective Inspector.

"Brian Lukis and Eddie VanCoon were working for a gang of international smugglers. A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose." Sherlock told the man, leaning closer to Dimmock to emphasis his point. Dimmock's jaw clenched as finally looks up at the man.

"Can you prove that?" he asks curiously. Sherlock straightens at the challenge.

...

...

In the canteen of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, Molly Hooper was looking over the choices in the buffet.

"What are you thinking, pork or the pasta?" Sherlock asked from behind. The woman turned in surprise, a grin gracing her face as she looked at the familiar face.

"Oh, its you." she gushed shyly.

"This place is never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?" Sherlock politely grinned at her, nodding to the display.

"I'd stick with the pasta. Don't want to be doing roast pork, not if you're slicing up cadavers." He quipped, grinning at her once again. As he anticipated she grinned back at him nervously.

"What are you having?" she timidly asked, pleased with the attention he was giving her. The shy girl's eyes flitted around curiously, taking note that his usual companion was nowhere around.

"Don't eat when I'm working. Digesting slows me down. Once the case is over Adara will no doubt begin force feeding me food once more." He thought aloud, pursing his lips in displeasure. Molly's grin dimmed but she continued on.

"So you're working here tonight?" she inquired.

"Need to examine some bodies." He quickly answered staring at her pointedly.

"Some?"

"Eddie VanCoon and Brian Lukis." Sherlock instantly supplied for her. Molly glanced down at the clipboard she was holding.

"They're on my list." She realized. Looking up once more her eyes locked in on Sherlock's pleading orbs.

"Could you wheel them out again for me?" Molly winced apologetically.

"Well….the paperwork's already gone through." She told him hesitantly. Sherlock glancing up slightly, pointing towards her hair. His lips smacked as he examined her head with animated curiosity.

"You've….changed your hair." He commented lightly.

"What?" Molly nervously fidgeted under his gaze.

"The…the style. Its usually parted in the middle." He elaborated, staring at her with his piercing gaze.

"Yes, well…"

"No, it's good. It…um…suits you better this way." Sherlock grinned at her brightly, causing the poor girl to become even more flustered. She smiles back at him flattered, before returning to the display. Once her back is turned Sherlock's grin drops as he looks down at his watch impatiently. With a sigh he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the cell that had been buzzing away in his coat.

**Out of hospital. At home. Why are you at St. Barts? – A**

Sherlock frowned at the text, checking the time on his cell. She was out already? He didn't even want to venture a guess at how she knew he was here. He did have a few theories of course, but nothing that he thought was worth perusing.

**Signed myself out. Don't need some idiot waving his MD around telling me what to do. – A**

The text came before he could come up with a reply, as if she already knew what he was going to ask. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

**Getting proof for Dimwit. Shouldn't you be resting? At the very least you have a concussion – S**

He quickly put the phone back in his pocket as Molly finally picked out her meal before leading him back towards her office.

**Don't tell me you're bothering Molly to see the bodies. They should already be processed by now. – A**

**No – S**

**Bullshit. Stop messing with her feelings, you ass – A**

Sherlock pursed his lips in displeasure. He saw nothing wrong with his methods. After all if something worked why should he have to change it just to spare someone's feelings. That was stupid logic. As he slipped the phone back into his pocket he ignored the following vibrations. One woman to deal with at a time.

...

Down in the morgue, two body bags were lying on tables next to one another. Molly stood wearing her gloves and gown while she unzipped one of the bags to reveal Brian Lukis. Sherlock led Dimmock into the room.

"We're just interested in the feet." he instructed, seeing that the man's face was in view. Molly frowned in confusion, whirling her head around to frown at him.

"The feet?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you mind if we have a look at them?" Sherlock requested with a grin. Without waiting for her response, he led Dimmock over to the other end of the body bag. Molly obediently followed and unzipped the end by the feet. At the bottom of Lukis' feet there was a small black tattoo of a black lotus within a circle. The same one that was on Soo Lin's heel. Sherlock straightened up with a smug expression as he was proven correct once again.

"Now VanCoon." He told her, striding over to the next bag. Dimmock follows and watch as she unzips the bag to reveal the exact same thing. The detective inspector sighed. He turned to look over at Sherlock sheepishly at being proved wrong.

"Oh!" Sherlock gasped in mock surprise, his face obviously gloating at his success.

"So.." Dimmock began awkwardly.

"So, either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlor or I'm telling the truth." Sherlock summarized coolly. Dimmock sighed in resignation.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly. He had underestimated the man, hoping he would be nothing like Adara. However, he proved to be much worse. It almost made him miss working with the infuriating woman….almost.

"I want every book from Lukis' apartment and VanCoon's." Sherlock requested. Dimmock frowned.

"Their books?" he asked in confusion.

...

...

Back at the flat the two residents head into the living room, taking off their coats. John sat down in his designated chair while Sherlock remains standing.

"You're back later than I thought you would be." Adara hummed from her spot on the couch. A cloth covered her eyes as she lounged lengthwise. John's eyes bugged out in surprise at her presence. His head whipped around to look at Sherlock accusingly, knowing there was no way the taller man was unaware of her escape from the hospital. Sherlock merely shrugged, as if nothing was wrong with the situation. John glared before turning towards Adara.

"What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?" he scolded, instantly making his way towards her. Adara grunted in protest when he removed the cloth.

"I have a concussion; I'm supposed to stay in the dark." She pointed out with a growl. John rolled his eyes.

"You're supposed to be in the hospital under supervision." He countered sternly. Adara waved her hand dismissively, still clenching her eyes shut.

"I signed the papers. Besides I told them I knew a doctor who would hover unnecessarily. Thank you for confirming my suspicions, John." She told him. John huffed in agitation and turned to the man who was still watching from behind.

"You're no help, and I doubt you were unaware of this. Aren't you going to say anything? She needs to be in the hospital." John pressed. Sherlock pursed his lips and quietly made his way to sit next to her on the couch. John shifted from his spot on the floor to allow better access. Sherlock reached forward and gently moved the hair away from her temple. A rather large black and purple bruise took up the visible space above her ear.

"Only a concussion? A hit like that should have cracked your skull." He pointed out. Adara blindly reached out and patted his thigh comfortingly.

"Just a concussion. I had enough sense to move in an attempt to duck, but was a moment too slow to miss the staff. It merely clipped me." She frowned, irritated that she had failed to avoid the hit. Sherlock sighed and took the cloth from John's hands, placing it back over her eyes. He stood once more, John watching him incredulously.

"That's it? Sherlock this is not the best course of action for her." John argued once more. Sherlock turned to look at him from the threshold of the kitchen.

"It wouldn't be the first time. If she wants to remain here, I have no say in the matter." He shrugged as if this happened all the time. Perhaps it did.

"Just how many concussions of this nature have you had?" John frowned in displeasure, turning to look back at Adara.

"Enough to know how to handle it by now. Besides I have you and Sherlock if anything happens. Just be sure to wake me up every so often. I'll be right as rain in no time." She dismissed easily. John growled at the irritating woman.

"Fine, but the first sign of trouble and I'm taking you back." He warned. Adara merely grinned and folded her hands on her stomach comfortably. In the silence Sherlock make his way back to her side, icepack in hand. He knelt down where John had once been and placed the pack to the side of her head delicately. She sighed in relief at the sensation.

"Thank you. Now, I've been thinking…"

"Are you sure that's a good idea in your condition?" Sherlock quipped.

"Shut up, Sherlock. Anyway, while I had the time I thought through everything we've been told. This Black Lotus is not just a criminal organization, it seems to be more of a cult. One in which Soo Lin's brother was corrupted by one of the leaders." Sherlock paused the think it over, realizing she was right.

"How do you know the difference?" John inquired with a frown. Adara pursed her lips and John wished he could see her eyes to get the full facial expression.

"Trust me….I know better than most." She pointed out dryly. John curiously looked over at Sherlock for explanation. However, the tall man offered none. His sharp blue-green irises stared back blankly, with a hint of warning to drop the subject. John nodded to himself, accepting this a secret they would be reluctant to divulge for now. Just add it to the growing list of the oddity that was this duo. Sherlock stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as he thought.

"Soo Lin said the name." John pointed out attempting to get past the uncomfortable silence that had settled on the room.

"Yes, Shan; General Shan." Sherlock agreed, starting to pace the length of the room. Adara shifted, digging deeper into the sofa to get comfortable again.

"We're still no closer to finding them." John sighed.

"Wrong. We've got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces." Sherlock countered. He looked to John, waiting for him to piece the clues together. Getting only a blank stare Sherlock huffed impatiently. The man turned his head to look over at his usual companion and frowned, realizing she had drifted off to sleep already. He rolled his eyes. How tedious it was to have to explain everything to John rather than have Adara do it for him.

"Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?" Sherlock asked pointedly.

"She worked at the museum." John answered.

"Exactly." Finally, the lightbulb went off in John's head.

"An expert in antiques. Mmmm, of course. I see." Sherlock grinned as he could finally keep the train of thought going.

"Valuable antiques, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution." He explained.

"And the Black Lotus is selling them." John added. That comment gave Sherlock an idea. Rushing over to grab his laptop he quickly got to work searching out a market where they would be selling these antiques. Soon enough he found a website, Crispian's, and read over the recent auctions of antiques from China specifically.

"Check for the dates…" he muttered aloud as he scanned. Soon he found a specific lot that caught his attention. Two Chinese Ming vases.

"Here, John." He called. John leaned on the table, tilting his head towards the screen from over Sherlock's shoulder.

"Arrived from China four days ago." Sherlock pointed out. He ran his fingers over the screen as he read over the details of the sale.

"Anonymous. Vender doesn't give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East." He read aloud.

"One in Lukis' suitcase and one in VanCoon's." John realized. Sherlock typed in Chines antiques sold at auction, muttering the words as he did.

"Look, here's another one." Sherlock pointed to the screen. John hummed as he followed along.

"Arrived from China a month ago. Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred thousand." He narrated off the page. John picked up Lukis' diary, scanning the dates.

"Ah look. A month before that a Chinese painting, half a million." John added, matching the dates with Lukis' return.

"All of them from an anonymous source. They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain." Sherlock whispered as he thought aloud. Meanwhile John scanned the dates from Lukis' and VanCoon's calendars and matched them against the anonymous vendors.

"And every single auction coincides with Lukis or VanCoon travelling to China."

"So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?" Sherlock suggested.

"That's why Zhi Zhu's come." John continued the thought. A knock at the door brought them out of their train of thought. The noise jolted Adara awake and she grabbed at her head in pain with a small groan. Mrs. Hudson gasped, realizing that she had woken the girl up.

"So sorry dear. Sherlock, are we collecting for charity?" the landlady questioned, lowering her volume.

"What?" Sherlock asked in confusion.

"A young man's outside with crates of books." The older woman explained. Adara huffed, realizing what was going on and took the cloth off her eyes, blinking them open slowly. She flinched, her eyes reacting to the light in the room.

"Well I think it would be best if I retired to your bedroom while they bring things up." She announced, sitting up with some difficulty. John shifted to help but before he could move, Sherlock had practically launched himself across the floor. He gently grabbed her elbow to steady her as she stood. Adara scrunched her eyes tightly before blinking them open once more, in attempt to calm the nausea.

"I think I can make it on my own." She insisted. Sherlock rose a brow at her, holding his hand out in invitation. Adara turned and took a step forward only to stumble. In that instant Sherlock was already at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Obviously not." He muttered in smug amusement. Adara hummed and didn't argue as he guided her into his room. The room itself was already significantly darker than the living room as Sherlock kept his blinds closed over his single window. He gently led her over to the side of the bed, letting her sit on the edge of it while she kicked off her shoes. The strawberry blonde blinked her eyes heavily once more, turning her head about to find him in the darkness. She grinned at him.

"You want to help me change into something more comfortable? I'll make it worth your while." She teased lowly. Sherlock huffed irritably and pulled back the blankets instead.

"I hardly think this is the time for you to make a pass at me." He gently scolded, however his eyes held amused affection for the attempt. Adara pouted and obediently followed his silent directions to crawl under the covers.

"Just because I'm a bit loopy from the pain meds, doesn't mean you would be taking advantage of me." She pointed out, snuggling deeper into his pillow with a sigh. Sherlock rolled his eyes, pulling the duvet up higher so it was just under her chin.

"Go to sleep. I'll wake you in an hour or so." Sherlock stood and watched as she nodded before quickly drifting off to sleep. Satisfied, the man turned to head back to the living room. After closing the door behind him he turned to go downstairs to direct the officers, but John's expression caught his attention. Sherlock turned and frowned deeply at the amused grin on John's face.

"What?" he barked. John shook his head, the grin never leaving his face.

"I never thought of you as the affectionate and attentive type." He commented, clearly pleased with this new discovery. Sherlock scowled.

"Don't be stupid, I'm always attentive or else I couldn't do my job." He dismissed, turning to head down the stairs. John stood to follow.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" he called after his flat mate in delight. Sherlock refused to acknowledge him.

...

In no time at all the small living room was filled with cases of books. Two uniformed officers carried in another crate, adding it to the already eye level pile of containers.

"So, the numbers are references." Sherlock began, turning towards John as they stood in the corner of the room.

"To books."

"To specific pages and specific words on those pages." John nodded as he followed along.

"Right so…..fifteen and one, that means…."

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read." Sherlock explained.

"Okay. So what's the message?"

"Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned." He explained easily. John stared wide eyed at the multiple crates full of books, each labelled with either Lukis or VanCoon.

"Okay, good. Well, this shouldn't take too long should it?" John pointed out despairingly. Sherlock clapped his hands in delight before opening up one of the containers. Meanwhile, John took a crate on the opposite end of the room. A tired sigh leaves his lips when he looks over the numerous books inside. Scanning the covers, John takes out a handful and sets them on the dining table before sitting down. Sherlock merely pulls out books and separates them at a rapid pace. Dimmock makes his way inside, holding an evidence bag.

"We found these, at the museum." He explained showing the bag to John. Inside was the photographs they had left behind.

"Is this your writing?" Dimmock inquired. John took the bag.

"Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us." He explained morosely. Dimmock nodded, turning back towards Sherlock who was busy scanning the books in his own crate, tossing them around as he sorted.

"Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?" the inspector asked meekly. Sherlock never looked up.

"Some silence right now would be marvelous." He deadpanned. Dimmock stared at the taller man incredulously before looking to John for help. John shook his head and returned to his task. Realizing he was not wanted, Dimmock bit his lip and left the room silently.

Sherlock continued on his crate, pulling out a book as he realized there was another copy. Placing VanCoon and Lukis' copies side by side to make sure they were the same version. He quickly opened it up to page fifteen and looked at the first word.

"Cigarette." He muttered in disappointment. Sherlock slammed the book closed before setting them on top of John's pile. John frowned at them and moved the books to the other side of the desk. John continued making his list of books as he was not able to remember them all like Sherlock could. The taller man continued bouncing between Lukis and VanCoon's boxes to look for replicates.

"Imagine." He huffed, scowling at the next set of matching books. Again, he dumped the books into John's pile, and moved on. This was not going to be as simple as he had hoped.

...

The two worked through the night as they continued their search through the piles of books. So far none of them were matching up with what was needed. During that time they remained diligent in taking care of Adara. Every other hour they would wake her up, John going into doctor mode every time. Sometime around 2am she had woken up and the pain in her head had increased. Sherlock walked over to her spot on the couch, where she was currently camped out. He knelt down and handed her a glass of water along with some medicine that the hospital had sent home with her. Adara took the cloth off her eyes and looked at the small pills with a pout.

"Do I have to take those? I'm sure the pain will go away on its own." She winced, hesitating a bit as her head pounded violently. Sherlock pursed his lips and held them out to her insistently.

"If you are feeling this much discomfort with your high a pain tolerance, I think it imperative that you take these." He pointed out. Adara's pout deepened but she reluctantly took the glass of water to sip on.

"But the heavy pain killers make me loopy. I don't like it." She whispered in displeasure. Her grey eyes looked up at him pleadingly. Sherlock's expression softened a bit, but he still held them out in front of her.

"Please." He lowly requested. Adara sighed, knowing she couldn't refuse now. Sherlock never said please. Being sure to show her displeasure in taking the pain meds she popped the pills in her mouth, chasing it with a swallow of the water. John watched in amusement at how childish she was being from his post at the desk.

"Remember, you can't go back to sleep just yet. I want to make sure you don't have any negative effects." John reminded, being sure to keep his voice at a low level. Adara groaned dramatically, lying back on the couch. The men grinned at her in amusement. At time wore on they keep conversation with her in order to help her stay awake long enough to satisfy John. Nothing negative came up, however John got a glimpse of what she meant by 'loopy'. Once the drugs had fully integrated into her system, he found that she began acting a bit out of character. Especially in the realm of physical affection.

Currently the woman had planted herself in Sherlock's lap while he scanned over the auction website on his laptop. Adara had convinced him to take a break from the books and seek out how far back these men had worked for the Black Lotus. Perhaps something else would come up to give him a break in the case. Sherlock's eyes never left the screen as he scrolled over the website with one hand and checked the datebook that was in his other hand. Adara was contentedly sitting in the middle, stroking his forearm with a small grin. During the night Sherlock had shed is suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves and she was taking advantage of the exposed skin. Her head nestled against Sherlock's chest; she gently ran patterns over his arm as if entranced by it. John watched the dynamic with a curious frown. Every so often Adara would reach over and try to grab at Sherlock's hand but the man would bat the wandering fingers away. The loopy woman remained undeterred and continued trying to grab them.

"I only allowed you to sit here as long as you did not distract me. You are pushing it." Sherlock warned, finally having enough of her antics. Adara frowned cutely and tilted her head up to look at him. Sherlock glanced down, raising an eyebrow.

"But I like your hands. I think they're sexy." She grinned deviously. Sherlock closed his eyes in exasperation. Taking the opportunity Adara reached out once more, only to be denied as he jerked his hand out of range.

"I believe you have been awake long enough. John are you satisfied?" Sherlock growled in irritation, looking over at his flatmate. John was very tempted to say 'no' in order to continue the entertainment, but the fierce glare Sherlock was shooting him made him rethink the decision.

"Yes, I think she will be just fine." he relented. Without wasting a second Sherlock swiftly stood up, forcing Adara to slide off his lap and stand upright.

"I'm taking you to bed, now." He informed her sternly. Adara grinned, wrapping her arms around his waist affectionately.

"Promises." She murmured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone through his shirt. Her wandering hands shifted back to his front and she began playing with the end of his shirt, loosening it out of his pants ever so slightly. Sherlock quickly grabbed her hands, holding them away from his body.

"Keep your hands to yourself." He lightly scolded. Adara pouted but didn't argue. Satisfied that he had finally halted her overly affectionate actions he gently guided her back into the bedroom. John remained silent, biting his lip to prevent a snicker from escaping. Once she had been settled back into Sherlock's bed, he came back out and sighed in relief. John continued watching with a grin while Sherlock made his way back to his chair, pulling the laptop into his lap. Feeling eyes on him, Sherlock looked up dully.

"So what was that?" John inquired curiously. Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh, running his hand through his hair roughly.

"When Adara is heavily medicated she loses a bit of her propriety and typically it manifests itself as…..overly affectionate….physical contact." He bit out uncomfortably. John nodded, accepting the answer. He was impressed that Sherlock had allowed Adara to get as cuddly as she had. It was obvious that Sherlock lacked basic emotion in almost all circumstances. But with Adara he actually seemed…..human. It was nice to see that side of him. It gave John hope that Sherlock was a decent person underneath all his idiosyncrasies.

"Let's not discuss it further. There are still many books to get through." Sherlock hissed, obvious that he wanted to forget about the whole thing as quick as possible.

"Right." John muttered, mentally groaning as he picked up another set of books.

...

The next morning Sherlock is still hard at work, standing with his nose in a book. John was still in the same position as he had started. Books had been scattered around the room and crates rearranged as they had searched the options all through the night. Sherlock roughly raked his hand through his already disheveled hair before looking at the crates as if they had personally offended him. John's wristwatch alarm went off, startling him out of his daze. The man stared out the window in confusion, as if to confirm that it was correct. Sighing sleepily, he buries his head in his hands, knowing that he now had to go to work with no sleep.

...

A hour or so after John had returned from work, Adara awoke and migrated back into the living room after freshening up. Feeling much better she had changed clothes and was resting her eyes as she lied back on the couch. Sherlock was still working through the books as he paced the floor.

"Still nothing." He growled in frustration. Adara cracked her eyes open to watch him.

"Maybe it's a book that no one would look twice at. There's standard books that just about everyone should own." She pointed out. Sherlock blinked owlishly, pondering the suggestion. Adara closed her eyes once more.

"A book that everyone would own." He mumbles aloud. A knocking sound caught his attention and he whipped around to find the source. Adara had lazily lifted her arm and rapped her knuckles against the wooden bookcase behind the couch. Sherlock followed her prompting and scanned the books that they owned. He quickly pulled out a Bible, Oxford Dictionary, along with a third that was set on her lap. Adara opened her eyes again before reaching for the book while Sherlock set his two atop the crates. Reading the books in his hand, Sherlock scowls. Neither are the words he is looking for.

"Any luck?" he asked, turning to look at Adara sharply. Adara sat up fully.

"Didn't even read it." She pointed out. Sherlock tilted his head at her curiously.

"Why not?" he huffed. Adara merely held up the book, showing him the cover.

"Contagious Diseases? Other than doctors and hypochondriacs who would have this lying around their house?" she deadpanned. Sherlock pursed his lips, turning back to the crates in frustration. John's bedroom door opened and closed, revealing a refreshed and clean man. Sherlock scratched his hair in aggravation. Adara watched in amusement at how wild his hair was steadily getting.

"I need to get some air. We're going out tonight." Sherlock abruptly announced.

"Actually, I've…uh…got a date." John countered with a smug grin. Sherlock frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John explained, shooting a grin at Adara. She rolled her eyes at the teasing.

"That's what I was suggesting." Sherlock pointed out with a frown.

"I sure hope not. If so we need to have a discussion." Adara hummed, staring at Sherlock with raised brows. Sherlock glanced at her, still confused. Adara rolled her eyes, realizing this concept was something they still needed to work on.

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock inquired, not looking all that interested in the answer.

"Eh, cinema."

"Oh, dull, boring, predictable." Sherlock retorted. He dug into his back pocket and walked over to hand John a piece of paper. As John looked down at it, Sherlock shot Adara a smug grin. She shook her head but did nothing to interfere.

"Why don't you try this." Sherlock suggested. John eyes the paper advertising the Yellow Dragon Circus, complete with a phone number for the box office.

"In London for one night only." Sherlock added, watching John's reaction carefully. John chuckled, handing the paper back to him.

"Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice. No offense." John countered, looking around him at Adara in apology. She shrugged.

"None taken, I wouldn't either." Sherlock turned to narrow his eyes at her. The two watched as John slipped on his jacket before walking out the door to go pick up his date. Once he was out of earshot Sherlock grinned deviously.

"You can't just do things the easy way can you?" Adara pointed out.

"Where's the fun in that? Now go get dressed, we have a date."


	17. Chinese Circus

That evening John and Sarah walk up the slope towards their designated building. Just inside the doorway a familiar strawberry blonde watched them approach with an amused smirk.

"It's been years since anyone took me to the circus." Sarah remarked with a grin. John chuckled nervously.

"Well, it's…a friend recommended it to me. He phoned up." John explained, mentally thanking Sherlock for the help. Whether he would ever say it aloud was still to be decided.

"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?" she inquired, shoving her hands in her dress pockets as they walked. John shrugged, folding his hands behind him.

"I don't know much about it." John admitted. The couple paused to examine the red Chinese lanterns strung all along the outside of the entrance hall. As their eyes examined the front of the entrance, the figure moved further inside to meet up with her companion.

"I think they're probably from China." Sarah pointed out with a laugh.

"Yes, I think….I think so, yes." John chuckled along with her.

"There's a coincidence." He muttered, mostly to himself. John quickly shook off his suspicion. He had been around Sherlock and Adara for too long. Holding the door open for his date, John walked in behind Sarah and headed to the box office just inside.

"Hi. I have eh, two tickets reserved for tonight."

"And what name?" the man asks.

"Er, Holmes." The man sifts through the reservations before turning back with an envelope in hand. He frowned before showing the tickets to John.

"Actually, I have four in that name."

"No, I don't think so. We only booked two." John explained with a frown.

"And then I phoned back and got one for myself and Adara as well." Sherlock's voice chimed in from behind them. John looked up at the ceiling in disbelief, slowly turning to see Sherlock walking towards the duo with Adara in tow. Sherlock politely offers Sarah his hand. Across from them John narrows his eyes at Adara who stared back innocently.

"I'm Sherlock and this is Adara." He introduces. Sarah glances at John before turning back to shake the taller man's hand. John purses his lips, keeping everything he wanted to say inside his head. For now. Sherlock smiles tightly at the woman before walking away abruptly. Adara minutely rolled her eyes skyward before stepping up to fill his place.

"Nice to meet you. He's John's flat mate by the way." Adara greeted, quickly dispelling the awkwardness Sherlock had left behind. Sarah nodded in realization and giggled shyly.

"That would make sense." She admitted.

"What are you doing here? You have a concussion." John scolded, his eyes shifting over to Sherlock who was impatiently waiting for John to join. The man in question looked down at his watch before sighing dramatically. John and Adara ignored him.

"I popped some painkillers earlier and I have been very good for the past few hours. I think I earned an evening out." she answered innocently. John stared at her, unamused. Regardless, Adara continued to grin at him, knowing she was wearing him down.

"John, I believe Sherlock needed to discuss something with you. Why don't I entertain Sarah while we wait? I believe John mentioned that you work at the hospital?" Adara quickly engaged the smaller woman in conversation without waiting for him to answer. With a huff John stomped over towards a stairway entrance where Sherlock was waiting.

"You couldn't let me have just one night off?" John asked tightly, being sure to keep his voice down as people passed by them.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England…" Sherlock pointed out instead.

"….dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave!" John quickly caught on. And he had fallen into the trap to join them like a sucker.

"We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shimmy up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look around the place…."

"With Adara even though we both know she should be at home resting. Fine. You two do that; I'm going to take Sarah for a pint." John suggested already turning away.

"I need your help." Sherlock countered sternly. John narrowed his eyes, not believing what was happening on his date night.

"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening." John pointed out lowly.

"Like what?" Sherlock inquired sharply. John leaned back, blinking owlishly at the man.

"You are kidding?" he asked incredulously. John glanced back over at Adara who was still talking with Sarah. He shot Sherlock a pointed look.

"What's so important?" Sherlock asked, his brows still furrowed.

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. You want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to…." He broke off uncomfortably.

"What?" John's eyes widen in agitation, finally at the end of his patience with this man.

"…while I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" he shouts. Unfortunately, the girls make their way within earshot at that moment. John stiffens up in embarrassment and turns to smile at her awkwardly, leaning back against the railing in an attempt to look casual.

"Heyyy." Sherlock rolled his eyes and headed upstairs.

"Excuse me." Adara whispered, heading around the couple to chase after him. Catching up she strolled alongside the man.

"Mistimed our return a bit. But I don't think Sarah heard." Adara informed. Sherlock grunted.

"So is John joining in this little mission?" Adara continued curiously, undeterred from his lack of response.

"He's too busy trying to increase his intimacy with his date." Sherlock muttered sourly. Adara smirked in amusement.

"Dear most people do when they start dating. It's a biological need to have intimacy and form attachments." She pointed out.

"Then why doesn't he just ask. It works just fine." Sherlock pouted. Adara rolled her eyes, swatting him on the arm.

"People are typically more complex than that. And you could stand to try it sometime, not the most romantic thing to just blurt out requests." Sherlock frowned and turned to eye her thoughtfully for a moment. Storing that suggestion away for later he led them to their spots around the stage.

...

The in arena sits a stage on the far side of the large hall with the curtains drawn around it, unused. Instead a circle of candles is laid out in the center of the floor, giving the room dim lighting and a mysterious feel. Since there were no seats the guests gather around the circle. Sherlock and Adara took their place behind John and Sarah, since they were the taller couple. Sherlock spun around, bumping into John as he tilted his head back to look around. John huffed in irritation.

"You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is…..art." John spat out the last word with a grimace. Sherlock frowned and looked back over his shoulder at the man.

"What's wrong with art?" Adara asked curiously, looking over the circle of candles. John shot her a deadpan stare. Her eyebrows shot up in amusement.

"This is not their day job." Sherlock pointed out with a whisper.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers." John huffed sarcastically.

"Good to see you're catching on." Adara chirped. Before John could retort the performance began. On a small hand drum, a rhythm was tapped out, gaining the crowd's attention. Sherlock turned around to watch.

A Chinese woman in very elaborate traditional garb made her way into the circle. Her face was heavily painted, in a traditional performance manner. Adara watched the woman intently, her eyes narrowing as she scanned over the features that weren't hidden by thick makeup. Sherlock moved his eyes between her and the performer, waiting for any indication of what was running through Adara's mind. Something was up. However, she offered no answer as she continued to watch intently. The woman in the circle stared around at the audience silently before raising her hand in the air. The drum cut off.

"Found your general." Adara muttered. Sherlock's brow furrowed and he glanced down at her.

"What makes you so sure it's her?"

"She commands everything. The way she holds herself is more than just a circus act. It's too comfortable; flawless. This is a normal persona for her, the only difference now is she wears the costume and puts on a polite façade for the guests." Adara summarized, her eyes still locked on the woman. Sherlock hummed, his eyes returning to the performance as he watched it with a new outlook. One piece down…..

A new, deeper and more suspenseful drumbeat began. The woman walked over towards a large cloth covered object. Yanking the covering off she reveals a large crossbow on a stand. More instruments join in. Her hands glide elegantly she picks up a long, thick, wooden arrow with white feathers opposite a sharp point. After fitting the arrow into the crossbow, she straightens up to look at the audience and pulls out a feather from her headdress, dramatically presenting it to the onlookers. John glances back at the couple behind him with a small grin, more entranced than he wanted to admit. Sherlock and Adara shot him knowing grins before looking back at the performance.

On the opposite end of the contraption sat a metal bowl. The woman gently places her feather into it, instantly releasing the arrow from the crossbow. Everyone gasps in awe as the arrow whizzes past them, impaling a large board at the other end of the circle. Sarah turned to John with a small laugh, placing her hand over her heart jokingly. The audience claps.

Instrumental music begins playing once more, signaling a new character to the circle. The audience claps for a large man wearing chainmail and donning an ornate mask. Holding his arms out, two assistants rush forward and begin attaching heavy chains and straps to his torso. Once his arms are secured across his chest, they guide him back against the board. Here they add more chains, attaching him to the board.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock whispers. John and Sarah blink, turning towards the man curiously.

"The crossbow is attached to a very delicate string. The object of this act is for the warrior to escape before it's fired." Adara added, watching the act with a small grin.

During their explanation the ringleader loads another arrow into the crossbow. As the final padlocks are put into place around the warrior, his head is pulled back against the board. The man dramatically shouts, preparing for his task. Once they have finished, the helpers step away back into the shadows. The instrumental music begins getting increasingly louder and more suspenseful. At a loud cymbal crash Sarah jumps, latching onto John tightly.

"Oh, god! I'm sorry!" she laughs in embarrassment. However, the woman reached out to grab John's arm with her other hand as well. John chuckles with her, the grin not leaving his face. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he watched the display. However, his attention was diverted when he felt Adara's pinky wrapping around his own. Pursing his lips, he subtly glanced at her. Her attention was still locked on the display. With a small sigh Sherlock returned to the act, tightening his own pinky to pull her hand closer.

The leader pulls out a small knife, displaying it to the crowd.

"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl." Sherlock whispers softly as it was happening before them. Attached to the now leaking sandbag is a pulley system with a weight attached to the other end. As the sand falls out of the bag, the weight is lowered towards the bowl at the end of the crossbow. The man wrapped in chains shouts as he struggles against the bonds; everyone in the crowd watching the scene intently. The drums get faster as the weight gets closer. Sarah latches onto John and watches nervously as the man finally gets one hand out. However, the weight was getting closer and closer.

The smaller woman glanced over at the intruding couple beside John and frowned curiously at their calm expressions. They didn't seem to be phased by the impending danger at all. The sandbag passes the weight on its way up the lever. Still grunting and shouting with effort the warrior in chains gets his other hand free, frantically working the chains around his neck. As the weight begins to lower into the bowl the man gets his neck free. He shouts again as the weight begins to lower past the lip of the bowl. Just as the weight barely touches the bowl, the arrow is released, and the warrior ducks out of the way just a mere split second before impact. The warrior cries out triumphantly as the audience lets out a sigh of relief and applauds.

"My god!" John mutters in relief, grinning over at Sarah who shared his expression. As the man in the ring stands to take in the applause John looks over his shoulder. His mouth deepens into a frown. Sherlock and Adara had vanished. He glanced around the hall for familiar figures but didn't see them anywhere.

...

Behind the curtain of the unused stage Sherlock weaves his way the makeshift dressing room that the performers had made the space into. Adara trails silently behind him. Sherlock eyes the costumes before kneeling down, scanning underneath the tables. Finding nothing at first, the duo silently pick through the racks of clothing and mirrors scattered about the stage floor. Adara jumps lightly at the sight of the masked warrior, only to realize it was just the costume on a stand. Sherlock smirks at her in amusement. Pursing her lips Adara brushes past him.

...

Outside in the arena the ringleader holds her hand up to silence the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider." She announces. From above a masked acrobat lowers from the ceiling, tumbling down in a red fabric that unravels around his waist. The audience claps as the man freezes a few feet above the ground, holding his body parallel with the floor.

"Did you see that?!" John whispers excitedly to Sarah. Looking back at the performance, John scans over the crowd once more; wondering where Sherlock and Adara had taken off to.

...

At the announcement of the 'bird-spider' Adara's interest was piqued. The name was awfully coincidental. Walking towards the large curtain she pulled it back and peered out to watch the acrobat flying around using the fabric. She grinned.

"Sherlock." At the sound of his name the man turned away from his inspection and walked over to join her. He rested his hand on her shoulder and placed his head above hers to watch the spectacle.

"Well, well." He murmured softly. Suddenly a stage door opens and the duo scramble to take cover. Sherlock nudges Adara towards a large mirror while he dives behind a rack of clothing, being sure to spread it out back to the way it was. The woman from the arena walks across the floor, heading towards a dressing table. Sherlock and Adara lock eyes from behind their spots and watch as the woman picks up a mobile phone to check it. Sherlock shifts to a more comfortable position, unfortunately nudging an empty hangar that falls to the floor. The woman whips around in alarm at the sound. From behind the mirror Adara shoots Sherlock a withering glare while the man winces.

The decorated woman walks closer to the rack. Sherlock crouches down lower as her footsteps approach. However, the she merely turns and leaves the stage through another door. Adara frowned in confusion. That wasn't right. Sherlock seemed to share her thoughts as he turns to look at her questioningly. She shrugged, not having an answer. Looking down Sherlock noticed a large black duffel bag. Pulling the edges back he reaches inside and pulls out one of the several spray cans. Turning to read the label his brow raises at the name. Michigan with a yellow band across the bottom to indicate the color.

"Found you." he hummed smugly. Standing back up Sherlock pushes back through the clothes on the rack and makes his way towards one of the dressing table mirrors. Shaking the can he bends down and sprays a single line across the mirror surface. Examining the paint, something in the mirror catches his attention. The masked costume had moved…and now had legs and arms attached to it.

The masked man lunges forward towards Sherlock with a large knife in hand. However, before he can get too close to him, a smaller figure tackles him to the ground. Sherlock blinks in surprise as Adara throws her body weight into the man, knocking him over. She groans as they both hit the floor, the impact not sitting well with her head. Rolling off the armored man, her eyes widen as she sees him recover and hold the knife above his head. This time aiming for her. Thinking quickly Sherlock clutches the paint canister in his hand before throwing it at the attacker. The warrior shakes his head as the can rattles the mask on his face. He turns his head back towards Sherlock and darts forward, deciding the one standing was a bigger threat at the time. Adara huffs as she rolls onto her stomach, willing the nausea and pain to die down while watching the action in front of her.

Knife still securely in hand the masked man thrusts it towards Sherlock, who leans back to avoid the blade. The two continue dodging back and forth as they try to land blows on one another.

...

Outside at the performance John frowns as he notices the curtains on stage fluttering. A stunning move by the acrobat in front of him catches his attention and the curtain is quickly forgotten.

...

Sherlock grabs another can from the duffel as he ducks once more. Holding it tightly in his hand he uses it as a small shield to deflect the blows from the blade that were getting closer. The masked man swiped at him; Sherlock ducking and smacking him on the elbow with the can. In response the attacker kicks him hard in the torso. Seeing Sherlock on the ground, Adara grabs a pole and scrambles towards the two despite her swimming vision. Doing whatever she can she swings the pole at the warrior's feet, causing the man to stumble to the ground. With an irritated growl the man continues towards Sherlock, reaching for his throat. Sherlock swipes the man's hand away and sprays the paint into his face. While he was temporarily blinded, Sherlock shoves him away. In one motion the warrior rolls onto his shoulders before springing forward onto his feet once more. The masked man flies towards Sherlock, acrobatically spinning before kicking the taller man in the chest. Sherlock is thrown backwards, out of the curtains and onto the arena floor below. Adara watches as the man leaps after him. Scrambling shakily to her feet, she clenches her eyes shut to combat the dizziness. Stumbling towards a stage door she makes her exit.

Down on the floor Sherlock blinks, his breath knocked out of him from the fall off the stage. He shifts, trying to get back up despite his lack of oxygen. The masked warrior leaps out from the curtains and lands just in front of Sherlock. In a flash John speeds towards the two as the man raises his knife above Sherlock. John tackles him over and pushes him against the stage. In retaliation the warrior kicks John in the chest to knock him over.

In the panic the acrobat takes off his mask and stares at the fight happening a few feet away. His head whips around towards the stage door and his eyes widen as a familiar face pops into view. Adara narrows her eyes at him and takes off after the acrobat who begins sprinting towards the exit. In one quick glance Adara makes sure John close to Sherlock before taking off after the acrobat. To her surprise Sarah picks up an arrow from the board and charges in towards the boys. They'd be fine.

Having found a sword, the masked warrior raises it above Sherlock, prepared to deliver a fatal blow when he is struck on the back of his head by a large arrow. Sarah cracks the weapon across his skull before quickly slamming it into his ribs multiple times. The masked man tumbles to the ground with a pained grunt. The small woman straightens up, breathing heavily as she looks down at her work. Finally, Sherlock manages to sit up and reaches forward to yank the warrior's shoe off; revealing a Tong tattoo on the bottom of his heel. John turns doubled over in pain as he watches. He quickly rushes over and grabs Sarah's hand leading her away from the scene. Sherlock bolts up and races after them.

"Let's go." The taller man suggests. The three of them shakily make their way towards the exit.

"Where's Adara?" John asks, taking notice that they were missing someone. Sherlock pauses in alarm.

"I saw her chasing after the spider man down that way." Sarah pipes up, pointing towards the exit. The two boys head that direction.

"Come on!" Sherlock calls as he sprints ahead. They rush through the venue without spotting a sign of where the two may have gone. Sherlock throws the doors open and spins in a circle, looking for his counterpart.

"Adara?" he calls, still unable to spot her.

"I'm up here!" the trio on the ground share a confused frown before walking over towards a side alley.

"I got a bit stuck. And he got away." Up above, dangling from the ledge of the building next door was Adara. John's eyes bulged in alarm.

"How on earth did you get up there? Are you alright?" he called frantically, searching for a way to get up. Sarah bit her lip nervously, worried for the girl. Sherlock merely walked to stand underneath her.

"Any reason you are staring up instead of looking for a way down?" he asked. Adara kept her head up, not looking away from the sky above her.

"Do you want me to get sick on you?" she shot back sharply. Sherlock's nose wrinkled.

"I told you that it wasn't a good idea for you to be out so soon." John scolded, realizing what had happened. In the scuffle her head had been knocked around and now she was stuck because she tried to chase a man who could scale walls. Unfortunately, her dizziness and nausea that came with the concussion caught up to her.

"What do you want us to do?" Sherlock inquired, deciding it was best to let her make the decisions on her dismount. Adara hummed thoughtfully as if she wasn't dangling from the side of a building.

"Just catch me." Sherlock examined his positioning underneath her and readjusted.

"Drop." He commanded. Without hesitation Adara let go of the building. Sarah shrieked in alarm and buried her head in John's shoulder as she watched the woman fall. Sherlock steeled himself and grunted as the tall woman fell into his arms. He managed to keep his balance for a moment before the momentum of her weight knocked him over. Being sure she remained secure in his arms Sherlock shifted to sit against the wall.

"You alright?" he reached up to pry open one of her eyes, examining the dilation of her pupils.

"Right as rain…." She stumbled clumsily as he stood the both of them upright. Sherlock shot her a deadpan stare as she clutched onto him for balance.

"…..in a few hours." Adara sheepishly corrected. Sherlock grunted and pulled her closer.

"We need to get you home." John insisted, rushing up to the two of them with Sarah on his heels. The two doctors fluttered about, checking her over on instinct.

"No time for that, we need to get to Scotland Yard before the Tong move on." Sherlock countered. Not listening to the two doctors fuss, Sherlock led Adara towards a taxi. John and Sarah hopped in after them and quieted down as they drove towards their destination.


	18. Nine Mil'

At Scotland Yard. Dimmock storms into the office followed by the group of four.

"I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted." He explained testily.

"Look, I saw the mark at the circus, that tattoo that we saw on the two bodies. The mark of the Tong." Sherlock explained, following right on the man's heels. Reaching his desk, Dimmock rounded on them. He bit his lip, his expression showing he wasn't entirely sure about all this.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a….a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China. Something valuable. These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back." John continued. Sarah watched them feed off one another from behind, her eyes flitting to each member as they spoke.

"Get what back?" Dimmock asked looking between the two of them intently. Sherlock paused, biting his lip and turning away. He refused to admit it aloud.

"We don't know." John answered hesitantly.

"You don't know." Dimmock deadpanned. Sherlock refused to look at him, irked that he was still missing the major clue.

"Mr. Holmes, Ms. Corrigan…" Dimmock sighed, sitting down in his chair.

"I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Sherlock preened ever so slightly at the praise. Adara noticed and nudged him with an eye roll. His ego did not need stroking right now.

"I gave the order for the raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it. Other than a massive bill for overtime." Dimmock requested testily.

"Give us until tomorrow. I promise we will have something for you by then." Adara insisted. Sherlock looked over at her thankfully, pleased that she truly believed that they would have it be then. Dimmock clenched his jaw, but eventually nodded his agreement.

...

...

When they arrived back at Baker Street, Sherlock immediately led Adara into his bedroom, to keep her out of the light and off her feet. John and Sarah make their way into the living room. Sherlock quickly returns and stares at the pictures above the fireplace, taking his coat and scarf off and setting them atop a crate of books.

"They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John pointed out with a sigh.

"No, they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out. The rendezvous." Sherlock countered. Walking closer to the photos he stares at them intensely, willing the answer to jump out at him. Meanwhile John looks over the photos as well while Sarah hovers nearby, lost as to what was going on. Sherlock lightly runs his fingers of the main photo of the brick wall.

"Somewhere in this message is must tell us." He muttered. Silence takes over the apartment once more. Sarah stares wide eyed, glancing between the two men.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it." Sarah speaks up, realizing she wasn't needed here.

"No, no, you don't have to go…Does she? You can stay."

"Yes, it would be better to study if you left now." John and Sherlock answered at the same time. The taller man looked pointedly at Sarah, ignoring the dark look John was shooting him.

"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John quickly corrected. Sarah nervously looked over at Sherlock who had already turned back towards the photos. John bit his lip in frustration, wishing that Adara was here to help fix the situation Sherlock had made. She was practically seamless at getting others to ignore when Sherlock threw insults. Sarah grinned awkwardly.

"Is it just me or is anyone else starving?" she suggested politely. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

"Oh god." He muttered under his breath. Why couldn't Adara be here to fix the situation?

...

...

Shortly after the suggestion for food, John opens the fridge and realizes their store was practically barren. Save for a few bottles and what looked like an eyeball there was nothing left inside. He clenched his jaw irritably, trying to come up with something to feed Sarah. Sherlock wouldn't eat. Meanwhile in the living room, Sherlock sat back down at the dining table covered with photos and drawings. He rummages through them, ignoring Sarah who stood nearby scanning over the pictures on the mirror.

"So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living." She asked innocently. Sherlock bristled, staring straight ahead.

"Consulting detective." He corrected tensely.

"Oh." Sarah muttered lamely, not really understanding the term.

...

In the kitchen John continued to rummage through their cupboards. He flinched at the smell coming from the contents of a pickled onion jar. Quickly putting the lid back on he goes back to his search.

...

Sarah wanders over towards Sherlock and looks over his shoulder.

"What are these squiggles?" she inquires, pointing at the markings in the pictures. Sherlock blinks. His face scrunches up irritably, willing himself to not shout at the infuriating woman. Was it purely necessary for Adara to be sleeping right now?

"They're numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect." He answered, not looking back at her.

"Oh right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that." Sarah nodded along.

...

John continued his search, coming up with only some measly cheese snacks. A whisper catches his attention. Looking up he grins spotting Mrs. Hudson walking in holding a tea tray.

"I've done some punch, and a bowl of nibbles." She whispers, coming to John's rescue. They both glance into the living room to make sure no one noticed her appearance. She lifts the tea towel off the tray to reveal her goodies.

"Mrs. Hudson you're a saint!" John praised quietly.

"If it was Monday, I'd have been to the supermarket."

"No, thank you! Thank you!" John insisted.

...

Back in the living room Sherlock compares information, trying to find something to go on. Glancing up he notices that one of his photos is missing. His eyes widen in surprise as he spots it in Sarah's hands. His jaw clenches tightly, eyes narrowing as he bares his teeth silently. Don't strike the woman, don't strike the woman, don't strike the woman…Sarah continued looking at the photo, oblivious to his thoughts.

"So these numbers, it's a cipher." She mused.

"Exactly." Sherlock answered tightly.

"And each pair of numbers is a word." At this Sherlock's head slowly lifts to look at her in bewilderment.

"How did you know that?" he whispered curiously.

"Well, the two words have already been translated, here." Sarah explained, setting the photo down on the desk so he could read it. Sherlock took it from her hands and stares at it intently.

"John." He called. John hummed in response from the kitchen.

"John, look at this." Sherlock called again, standing up from his spot. He gently took the photo from the evidence bag and handed it to the man.

"Soo Lin at the museum, she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it!" he realized.

"Nine. Mill" he reads aloud the print that was written next to the symbols.

"Does that mean millions?" John asked, squinting at the small print.

"Nine million quid for what?" Sherlock mused thoughtfully. He turned abruptly and gathered his coat and scarf.

"We need to know the end of this sentence." Sherlock announced.

"Where are you going?" John asked watching Sherlock pack himself up.

"To the museum, to the restoration room." He grimaces in exasperation as his thoughts catch up with him.

"Oh, we must have been staring right at it!" he huffed in frustration.

"At…at what?" John asked in confusion.

"The book, John. The book. The key to cracking this cipher!" Sherlock answered, brandishing the photo at him.

"Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk." Sherlock mused aloud as he slung his coat on before rushing out the door.

...

Sherlock bursts out the door, knocking into a couple as he runs to the curb to call a taxi. The man shouts at him in German, dropping the book he had been holding. Sherlock blinks and quickly picks up the book, handing it back to the man and apologizing in German. The man snarks back at him before putting an arm back around his wife and heading back down the street. Sherlock turns back around and tries to get another cab. He grunts in exasperation as no more cabs are spotted on his street. Not wanting to just stand around he begins walking down the street in a huff. After a few yards down he grumbles under his breath again, still seeing no cabs. Glancing around boredly as he walked, Sherlock spots an Asian pair standing on the corner consulting an A-Z book. Sherlock's eyes narrow in thought. Using tips Adara had taught him to strengthen his photographic memory he thinks back to where he had seen that book before. Lukis' living room…..Van Coon's dining table…his own bookcase.

"A book that everybody would own." He mutters quietly, remembering what Adara had pointed out. Thinking back harder he realizes that the same book was on Soo Lin's desk at the museum. Startling in realization Sherlock bolts back down the street after the German couple.

"Please wait! Bitte!" he shouts, getting their attention. The couple turn back and frown at him in confusion. The man grumbles in annoyance as he sees Sherlock sprinting towards him. Without warning Sherlock snatches the A-Z book from his hand and starts scanning through it.

"Minute!" Sherlock informs, asking for them to wait a minute as he uses their copy. They angrily shout for the book to be returned but are ignored. In exasperation the man walks away with his wife, leaving the crazy man to read through his book.

...

Back in 221B John and Sarah are in the kitchen, John at the table and Sarah standing by the counter.

"Yeah! No, absolutely. I mean, well, a quiet night in is just….just what the doctor ordered." she grinned. John snickered quietly at the joke.

"I mean, I'd love to go out on an evening and wrestle a few Chinese gangsters, you know, generally. But a girl can get too much." She pointed out teasingly while John continued to laugh, nodding in agreement.

"No, okay." He relents. They grin at one another, before glancing away and laughing in embarrassment.

"Hmm. Um shall we get a takeaway?" John suggested. Sarah eagerly agreed. He quickly got up to search for a menu.

...

Meanwhile Sherlock was down the street furiously flicking through the pages for the right one.

"Page fifteen, entry one. Page fifteen, entry one…" he mumbled. Once he found the page, the entry was Deadmans Lane."

"Dead man. You were threatening to kill them. The first cipher" He realized, lifting his head from the book. Pulling the photograph out of his coat pocket he unfolds it. Sherlock looks to the third part as the first two were already translated.

"Thirty-seven, nine…"

"Nine mil…for…" he mumbles as he begins decoding the cipher.

...

Back in Baker street Sarah sat in John's newly vacated seat while he filled their glasses with the punch Mrs. Hudson brought up. Just as he finishes someone knocks on the door downstairs.

"Oh blimey that was quick. I'll just pop down." He mused, setting down the glasses and heading towards the door.

"Do you want me to lay the table?" Sarah asked. John paused and stared at the kitchen table covered with Sherlock's things.

"Um…eat off trays?" he suggested instead.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Will Adara want anything?"

"I think she'll be alright. Needs to sleep this off for a bit longer." He hummed with a frown. Sarah nodded in agreement as he walked off. John opened the front door, smiling at the man standing on the doorstep with his hood pulled up.

"Sorry to keep you. How much do you want?" John inquired, digging in his pocket.

"Do you have it?" the man asked instead. John looked around blankly.

"What?"

"Do you have the treasure?"

"I don't understand." Without warning the man catches John on the side of his head with his pistol, knocking him out cold.

...

Upstairs in the bedroom Adara blinked her eyes open tiredly, her face scrunching up as she wondered what had woken her up. Suddenly she heard it. The sound of scuffling. She sat there for a moment as she heard the sound dishes being dropped on the floor, followed by muttering in Chinese. Adara's eyes widened as she realized what was happening. They had been found. Just before she made her way out the bed, the door handle rattled. On instinct she lied back down and feigned sleep. Without breaking character, she allowed herself to be lifted up and carried out of the flat. May as well see where this went with minimal damage.

...

Minutes later Sherlock bursts through the door, leaping up the stairs to the flat.

"John! Adara! I've got it!" he shouted, making his way inside. Sherlock quickly ran into the kitchen, realizing no one was there and ran back into the living room. All along the way he was waving around the A-Z book.

"The cipher! The book! It's the London A-Z that they're using…." He trailed off, his grin dropped as he spotted the cipher sprayed across his living room windows. Dead Man. Sherlock quickly whips around, double checking that neither John nor Sarah are there. His eyes widen in alarm as he sprints to his bedroom. With the door already open he peers inside and sees that it was empty as well.

...

...

Somewhere in the dark John slowly regains consciousness. His head pounds as he opens his eyes gingerly, realizing he was tied to a chair. In front of him a fire burns in a barrel, giving just enough light in the dark tunnel. From across the tunnel, the voice of the circus ringleader is heard from the shadows.

"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket." She recites, stepping into the light.

"Ugh cut it with the cliché bad guy routine. You already have the dim lighting and the tacky sunglasses with dark clothing going on. Just cut to the chase." Adara complained, getting John's attention. John grinned in amusement, before the pain in his temple caused it to turn in to a grimace. He glanced around and spotted her to his right, also tied to a chair. He mentally shook his head at her casual attitude. Adara appeared unphased as she leaned her head backwards on the chair with her eyes closed. Anyone else would never leave themselves in such a vulnerable position. Her comment went ignored by whoever else was in the tunnel with them. Following that train of thought John looked around the area and frowned worriedly as he saw Sarah across the fire from him, also tied down but with a gag in her mouth. Her eyes find him, filled with terror. Further down the tunnel a couple of other fires burn in barrels, illuminating the figures of some Chinese men around, two of which were shadowing the woman. She slips of her sunglasses before looking down at John.

"A Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes." The continues. John blinks at the title.

"I…I'm not Sherlock Holmes." He corrects in confusiono. General Shan smiles humorlessly, again ignoring Adara who snorted in amusement at this interesting development.

"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it." She informs him. Leaning down she opens up John's jacket and rummages in his pocket.

"Ow, ow." John complains at her roughness. Pulling out his wallet, she opens it and pulls out the credit card.

"Debit card, name of S. Holmes." She reads off pointedly. John sighed, flashing back to when Sherlock loaned him his card to go shopping.

"Yes; that's not actually mine. He lent that to me." John explained. The general continued looking through the wallet.

"A check for 5,000 pounds made to the name of Sherlock Holmes."

"He gave me that to…to look after."

"Tickets from the theatre, collected by you, name of Holmes." She read off for him.

"Yes, okay…I realize what this looks like, but I'm not him." John tries again.

"We heard it from your own mouth." John frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone, because no one can compete with my massive intellect…." She quoted John's rant from outside Soo Lin's apartment. Adara snickered, her head still back and eyes closed.

"Wow….she's got a really solid case." she pointed to , tilting her head towards John. He shook his head in bewilderment.

"Did I really say that?" he asked. John chuckled along with Adara before wincing in pain again.

"I suppose there's no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression." He muttered.

"It was a pretty good one though." Adara pointed out. While the two were chatting Shan pulled out a pistol and aimed it at his head. John cringed away, letting out a panicked breath. Hearing the sudden silence Adara finally opened her eyes and looked at the scene in front of her. Her expression hardened as the sight of Shan's grin.

"I am Shan." She introduced herself.

"Yea we know." Adara deadpanned. The woman looked over sharply, however John was out of the loop.

"I didn't….you're Shan?" he asked in surprise. Shan narrowed her eyes curiously at Adara before turning her gaze back to John.

"Three times we tried to kill you and your companions, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?" she mused, cocking the pistol. John instinctively flinched back at the sound.

"Don't, don't." he nervously whispered, struggling against his bonds.

"It means your assassins are in the wrong line of work." Adara shot out, watching John panic. Shan sighed irritably and looked over at her sharply. As the gun lowered from John's face he let out a little sigh of relief.

"Why did we not gag that one?" Shan asked, looking at her men with a glare.

"Because you secretly like the sound of my voice? And I bother you, so you want me to let something slip. Highly likely since you've managed to concuss me multiple times over the past couple days." Adara answered. Shan paused, staring at the woman curiously. Adara grinned; she had her attention. She continued talking incessantly as Shan slowly approached her instead. John watched anxiously.

"I recognized you from the number of times you followed us, but you managed to disappear before I could get a clear look at you. You also are aware of Sherlock's reputation since you are keen on apprehending him to get information…you need to know where the stolen good is…..you need him to find it…." Her rambling was cut off when the General roughly shoved a pistol in her face. Adara bit her lip and stared right down the barrel, before slowly returning her gaze to the woman holding it.

"You speak too much. How talkative would you be if I put a bullet in your head?" Shan mused, annoyed by the woman. Adara grinned.

"Why don't we find out?" she suggested challengingly. John jolted in his seat.

"Adara.." he muttered worriedly. Adare continued to stare at Shan. Rising to the challenge the woman slowly placed her finger on the trigger, beginning to pull it backwards. John watched in terror, unable to do anything as he watched Shan pull back on the trigger. He flinched violently at he heard the click. However, Adara merely grinned deviously. Shan frowned.

"Might want to put a real bullet in there next time you threaten me." Adara growled.

"We should have killed you in the first place." Shan muttered sourly. John swallowed thickly as he tried to get ahold of himself.

...

Meanwhile Sherlock was working himself in a tizzy as he frantically read over the decoded message.

"Tramway." He muttered thoughtfully, rushing over to the bookcase. His brain worked in overdrive and stares at it trying to focus on the current task instead of the possibilities of what was happening to his friends at this very moment.

"Oh, Christ." He grunts in frustration, trying to reign in his emotions. Focusing in once again he reaches for a fold out map of London. He spreads it out over the table, running his fingers over the possible options on where to go.

"There." He declares, stabbing his finger on the table before sprinting out the door.

...

Shan glared directly at Adara as she loads a clip into the pistol before cocking it and pointing it at John this time. He cringed away from it.

"Not blank bullets now." Shan quipped with a smirk.

"Fine." Adara quipped, watching John intently.

"If we wanted to kill you Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive." Shan explained.

"Do you have it?" she asked sternly. John swallowed and frowned at her.

"Do I have what?"

"The treasure."

"I don't know what you're talking about." John shook his head. Shan looked over at Adara, pressing the gun tightly against his forehead for effect. John tensed up, clenching his eyes shut.

"He's telling the truth. We don't know what the treasure is, or where it is." She admitted tightly. Shan pursed her lips.

"I don't trust you. And we want to be certain." She countered, turning away. John and Adara share a nervous glance. General Shan looks over at her men, sending one over to pull the cover off the large object near the wall. It was the large crossbow from the act, with the arrow already loaded. John sighs deeply, able to properly breathe now that the gun was away from his face. Shan turns her gaze back to the duo.

"Everything in the west has its price; and the price for her life….." They look at Sarah who's eyes widened dramatically.

"…is information." Shan finished. The two henchmen walked over and picked up Sarah's chair. The woman cries in terror through the gag as she's set in front of the crossbow.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." John whispers in anguish. He never wanted to drag her into any of this.

"John, it's not your fault." Adara insists, looking at the man sternly. Sarah stares at the end of the arrow in front of her, crying and tugging against her bonds. Shan glares down at John.

"Where's the hairpin?"

"What?" John spat, tugging at the ropes again. This time he no longer cared about the pistol pointed at him.

"The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the west; and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr. Holmes have been searching." Shan summarized heatedly. Adara frowned thoughtfully at this information.

"Please. Please, listen to me. I'm not….I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for." John insists frantically.

"I need a volunteer from the audience" Shan asks loudly and dramatically.

"No, please!"

"Leave her out of this!" Adara and John shout trying to get Shan to change her mind. They went ignored.

"Ah, thank you lady. Yes, you'll do very nicely." Shan made her way towards Sarah, prompting the woman to flail even more frantically. Shan grins, taking a knife out and punctures the sandbag in the pulley system. John stares at the bag in horror as sand begins to pour out. Adara bites her lip and tries flexing her wrists, looking for any weaknesses. Her eyes flit around anxiously. Where was he?! Shan grins deviously and turns back to them.

"Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty date in a death-defying act."

"You're making a big mistake." Adara shouted at her heatedly. Shan placed a black origami lotus flower on Sarah's lap.

"You've seen the act before How dull for you. You know how it ends." Shan mused, taunting Sarah cruelly as the woman continued to cry and flail.

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John shouts frantically.

"I don't believe you." Shan dismissed.

"You should, you know." A familiar voice echoed throughout the tunnel. Adara grinned deviously.

"Now you've done it." She whispered, staring at the woman. Shan whipped around, spotting a tall silhouette at the end of the tunnel.

"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." Sherlock continued. Shan raised her pistol, and aimed it at the man. He immediately dodged to the side of the tunnel, hiding in the shadows. One of Shan's men rushes towards where he had disappeared.

"How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" Sherlock askes, his voice echoing. John sighs; a mixture of relief and exasperation.

"How about late?" Adara suggested with a grin, looking over at John.

"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second." Sherlock pointed out. Shan frowned but never put her weapon down.

"Well?" she inquired.

"Well…." Sherlock mused, running out and whacking the man in the head with a pipe as he passed. The man collapses with a grunt, Sherlock ducking into the shadows again.

"….the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you." Sherlock shot off quickly. He darts out of the darkness and knocks over a nearby barrel, extinguishing the fire. Adara blinks in surprise at the change in light. Shan's eyes widen nervously now that she lost visual of that end of the tunnel.

Sherlock suddenly appears behind Sarah, squatting down behind her to start untying the knots. However, the Spider runs over and loops a long scarf around his throat a few times. Sherlock yelps and stands up, tugging at part of the scarf around his neck while the man pulls it tighter. Now instead of untying Sarah, Sherlock is scuffling with Spider. Sarah blanches as she looks back at the arrow in front of her while the sandbag continues to lower.

"John, I think someone other than Sherlock needs to be helpful. We don't have much time." Adara whispers. John nodded and tried to stand up in his chair. He got up on his tiptoes since his ankles were strapped to the legs of the chair. Adara rolled her eyes skyward as he tried to move forward.

"John drop." She ordered. John frowned at her in confusion but stumbled and fell in front of her anyway. Adara then gets her chair up and turns to use the back legs. Looking over her shoulder as best she could Adara smashes the her chair's legs into the legs of John's chair.

"Ow!" he yelped, biting his lips to try and muffle what was going on. However, he looked down in surprise and realized that his foot was free now that the leg of the chair was broken in half.

"Now get over there." She gestured towards Sarah who was slowly losing hope as she stared at the falling weight. John thrashed, slowly making his way closer to the crossbow. Lashing out with his freed leg he knocks the crossbow so it shifts position just as the ball touches the pan. In that moment the arrow is released and buries itself into Sherlock's attacker. The man slowly topples to the floor. With the pressure released from his throat Sherlock gasps for air, looking around for the missing leader. Shan's footsteps echo as she quickly runs out of the tunnel. Sherlock begins to take a step after her but the sound of Sarah's cries stops him. He quickly unloops the scarf from his neck and makes his way over to Sarah who is full on sobbing at this point.

"It's all right." Sherlock told the hysterical woman soothingly. On the floor John groans, shuffling around to try and wiggled out of the ropes he was still stuck in. Sherlock quickly unties the gag around Sarah's mouth.

"You're going to be all right. It's over now. It's over." Sherlock soothes softly. Adara watches with a proud smile at how gentle the man was being. John watches as well and smiles at his date weakly.

"Don't worry. Next date won't be like this." he assures. Sherlock stands up and turns to look down the tunnel wistfully.

...

Later on the police arrive, cleaning up the mess left behind. Dimmock waits beside a police car outside the tunnel watching John leading Sarah away from the scene. Sherlock and Adara walk behind them, however they veer off to meet with the inspector. Sherlock keeps a hand on Adara's back in case her concussion causes issues once again.

"We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report." Adara informed the man. Dimmock looked down sheepishly.

"Ms. Corrigan, Mr. Holmes…"

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career." Sherlock cuts him off.

"If I go where you point me." Dimmock sighs, realizing where this was going.

"Exactly." Sherlock hummed, as he led them away. He kept his gaze straight ahead as he was lost in thought on their way back to the main road. Adara glanced up at him and wrapped her arm around his waist.

"You did really good." She praised warmly. Sherlock blinked and looked down at her curiously.

"Shan got away." He countered evenly, but Adara could see the severe disappointment in his eyes. She squeezed his waist.

"It doesn't matter. It's not like we really could have made a dent in the organization with or without her. You did the right thing by helping Sarah, I'm proud of you." Adara insisted. Sherlock's chest swelled a bit at her praise. He leaned his head down to press a light kiss to the top of her head.

"Let's get you home. We have a case to wrap up in the morning." He muttered lowly.

...

...

The next morning John was sitting at the kitchen table across from Adara. Sherlock stood against the counter, pouring a mug of tea. John looks down at the decoded message on the photograph.

"So, 'nine mil'…."

"Million." Sherlock corrected, handing a full mug of tea to Adara before filling his own.

"Million, yes; 'Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway'." John read aloud.

"An instruction to all their London operatives." Adara mused thoughtfully, sipping her tea. John hummed.

"A message; what they trying to reclaim." Sherlock explained.

"A jade pin?" John asked incredulously.

"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout." Sherlock elaborated easily, pointing to the work on the sheet.

"Hang on….a hairpin worth nine million pounds?" John reiterated.

"Apparently." Sherlock muttered.

"Why so much?"

"It all depends on who owned it." Adara shrugged, taking a sip of her tea.

...

...

The three of them made their way into Shad Sanderson Bank to finish out their task for Sebastian.

"Two operatives based in London. They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something. A little hairpin." Sherlock spins the story as they enter the building.

"Worth nine-million pounds." John added.

"Eddie Van Coon was the thief. He stole the treasure when he was in China." Adara pointed out. John frowned.

"How do you know it was Van Coon, not Lukis? Even the killer didn't know that." He inquired.

"Because of the soap." Sherlock answered mysteriously before disappearing through the revolving doors. Adara rolled her eyes fondly at the fanfare. John looked to her in confusion as they followed after the man.

"Van Coon had a rather large bottle of women's hand soap in his apartment. The same brand his assistant had on her desk. He had a girl to give the pin to. Lukis didn't." she elaborated.

"Ah." John sighed in understanding, following after her as they headed towards Sebastian's office. While Sherlock went to see Van Coon's assistant.

...

In the office Sebastian frowned signing a check for 20,000 pounds. He looked over at John and Adara who were standing on the other side of his desk silently.

"He really climbed up on the balcony?" the man asked suspiciously.

"Nail a plank across the window and all your problems are over." John answered smugly. Seb grimaced in agitation, handing the envelope over to him. John nodded his thanks before leaving.

"I would say it was a pleasure doing business with you Seb but….I would be lying through my teeth. Don't call again unless you have an attitude adjustment." Adara told the man seriously before swiftly making her exit and joining Sherlock over by the assistant. Her grin widened in amusement as the woman cheered in shock over her newfound fortune from the jade pin she was wearing.

...

...

The days following were focused on getting everyone back to full health, mainly Adara. Soon her headaches began to be less frequent and she was able to join them earlier in the day since her sleep was normalizing. One particular morning Sherlock was wearing his dressing gown over his shirt and pants, sitting at the dining table. John sat opposite him and Adara was setting breakfast in front of them, her own dressing gown wrapped around her figure. She sat down next to Sherlock and looked over his shoulder at the headline of the paper he was reading. 'Who wants to be a million-hair.' Sherlock quickly set it down and reached for another section.

"Over a thousand years old and its sitting on her bedside table every night." John hummed thoughtfully as he spotted the headline.

"He didn't know its value. Didn't know why they were chasing him." Sherlock added.

"Hmmm. Should have gotten her a lucky cat." John quipped. Adara giggled quietly at the joke while Sherlock grinned briefly. John looked at Adara curiously when Sherlock's gaze became distant.

"You mind, don't you?" John asked, realizing what the problem was.

"What?"

"That she escaped. General Shan. It's not enough that we got her two henchmen." John elaborated. Sherlock glanced at Adara who was watching him intently.

"It must be a vast network, John. Thousands of operatives. We barely scratched the surface." Sherlock pointed out, going back to a point Adara had made.

"You cracked the code, though, Sherlock. Maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it." John pointed out. Adara snorted quietly.

"No. No. I cracked this code. All the smugglers have to do is pick up another book." Sherlock countered, after shooting Adara an admonishing look. The group fell into silence once more, knowing he was right. This was definitely part of a bigger scheme. They just had to take what came, one case at a time.


	19. The Great Game

Sherlock sat at a small wooden table in the visiting center of a high security prison. Adara stood behind him holding her arms tightly to hold off the cold, despite her wearing a polar coat. Sherlock also wore a more temperature appropriate coat as his now sported a fur collar. Across the table from Sherlock was an inmate, their client at the moment. A couple of guards near the exits made up the total occupancy in the cement room. Adara glanced at her watch once again using one of the windows of the room as her light source.

"Just tell me what happened, from the beginning." Sherlock droned.

"We'd been to a bar, a nice place, and er….I got chattin' with one of the waitresses and Karen weren't to 'appy with that. So…when we get back to the 'otel, we end up havin' a bit of a ding-dong, haven't we." Adara mentally groaned while Sherlock took the more verbal route and let out a deliberately noisy breath of disappointment.

"She was always getting' at me, sayin' I weren't a real man."

"Wasn't a real man." Sherlock corrected. The man paused.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

"It's not 'weren't'; it's 'wasn't'." Adara pointed out with a tight grin.

"Oh." The inmate muttered, baffled by the interruption.

"Please, god…just continue." She requested pinching her nose between her fingers. The man frowned in offense but complied.

"Well, then I dunno how it happened but suddenly there's a knife in my hands." Sherlock gave him a deadpan stare. Really…he didn't know how it happened?

"And, you know me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives." The man explained. Adara frowned, blinking blankly at the man. Sherlock glanced down at the man's hands sitting still on the table.

"He learned us how to cut up a beast." Adara grimaced in disgust.

"Taught." She chimed. The man glared at her.

"What?"

"Taught you how to cut up a beast." Sherlock finished for her this time. The man clenched his jaw tightly, looking between the two irritably.

"Yeah, well, then….then I done it."

"Did it." Sherlock huffed. The inmate snarled angrily at the constant interruption, slamming his hand down on the table repeatedly.

"Did it! Stabbed 'er….over and over and over, and I looked down and she weren't'…" Adara stared up at the ceiling while Sherlock let out a loud breath through his nose, turning away. The man quickly regained his composure and corrected himself.

"…..wasn't moving no more.." Adara winced.

"…any more." The man finally finished correctly. He let out a shaky breath, lowing his head.

"You've gotta help me. I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident I swear." He told them softly. Sherlock and Adara shared a tired look. She pulled her coat tighter around her and turned to walk away, prompting Sherlock to stand and follow after her. His metal chair slid nosily across the cement and they turned to leave.

"You've gotta help me, Mr. Holmes!" the man begged. They stopped.

"Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this." Sherlock peered over his shoulder at the man.

"No, no, no Mr. Berwick. Not at all." He explained, looking at Adara thoughtfully.

"Hanged, yes." He finished with a lip quirk. Adara rolled her eyes and followed him out of the facility.

"I told you this would be a waste of time." She griped, frowning at the snow flurrying around them. Sherlock sighed.

"It sounded interesting." He weakly protested.

...

...

Gunshots ring out in 221B Baker street. Sherlock lounges in his armchair, head lying on the back. Still in his dressing gown and pajamas, his bare feet stretched all the way out in front of him as he barely sits in the chair. The man's eyes open to stare blankly at the ceiling. His pays no attention to the opening and closing of the front door. Instead he looks over the sofa where a yellow smiley face has been spray painted on the wall, now sporting two bullet holes in the smile. He turns back to face the front of the room and lazily raises his left hand. He fires two more shots, hitting the eyes. Sherlock turns to observe his work and shoots once more, making a hole for the nose. John ran up the stairs, holding his fingers to his ears. He stops once he reaches the landing and stares at his flat mate incredulously.

"What the hell are you doing?!" John shouts.

"Bored." Sherlock sulked. John squinted his eyes in disbelief, leaning forward to make sure he heard the man right.

"What?..."

"Bored!" Sherlock reiterates loudly, springing up from the chair and aiming his gun again. John recoils and covers his ears. Adara emerges from Sherlock's room, reading over her phone with a set of noise cancelling headphones on. John watches her as she smoothly walks past him, ignoring the gunshots going off.

"Are you kidding me?! Why are you letting him do this?" he shrieks incredulously. Seeing John's distress Adara gently took off her headphones and looked over at Sherlock who was observing his creation curiously.

"It's not the worst thing he's done. What is he complaining about this time?" she inquired.

"He's bored." John scoffed. Sherlock heard the word and took it as his que to start firing again. He switched hands and shot at the smiley face again. Sherlock then swings his arm behind his back and shoots again in his contorted position.

"Bored! Bored!" he rants angrily. Adara scoffed.

"Oh grow up, Sherlock. You're just sulking about the case in Belarus. I told you it wasn't worth the time, but you didn't listen to me and now you don't have a case to work on." She scolded. Sherlock turned to glare at her, holding his arm out and shooting at the wall without looking. Adara rose a brow at him challengingly. While he was distracted John rushed forward and grabbed the gun out of the man's hand; Sherlock not protesting the confiscation.

"I am not sulking." Sherlock refuted indignantly.

"Sherlock, you're having a temper tantrum. You have no one to blame but yourself for being bored." She countered, crossing her arms over her chest. Watching the spat unfold John slid the clip out of the pistol. Sherlock scowled at the insult and headed towards the sofa.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." He huffed dramatically. John locked the pistol back up into the small safe on the dining room table.

"So, you take it out on the wall?" He asked in mild amusement. Sherlock ran his fingers over the yellow smile.

"Ah, the wall had it coming." The taller man swished his dressing gown around himself and flopped dramatically into the sofa. Adara rolled her eyes and went back to her phone, standing by the wall. John took the time to shrug off his coat.

"So, what happened in Russia?" he inquired, looking between the couple curiously. Sherlock uses his feet to push himself into a more upright position.

"Belarus." He corrected. John waited, but after a minute of silence he realized he wasn't going to get anything else. Sherlock spotted John's amused smirk out of the corner of his eye and turned to scowl at the man. Everyone was mocking him.

"What he neglected to say was that it was an open and shut domestic murder. All he did was butcher the English language and his girlfriend. It was a waste of time…..like I originally stated before this one took the case." Adara elaborated, shooting her boyfriend a pointed glance. Sherlock huffed, turning away from her childishly.

"Ah, shame." John muttered sarcastically, trying to contain his grin. Adara giggled; John shooting her a knowing grin. Turning to walk into the kitchen he froze, throwing his arms up in frustration at the absolute disaster on the table. Instead of dwelling on it he heads towards the fridge with an annoyed growl.

...

...

Meanwhile, Adara makes her way in to sit on the coffee table next to Sherlock who refused to look at her.

"Sherlock…" he nearly turns his entire torso completely around to face the wall.

"Sherlock, look at me when I'm talking to you." she gently scolds, waiting for him to loosen up. His shoulders dropped minutely. Letting out a tired sigh Adara reaches over and holds Sherlocks hand. The man tilted to look at her out of the corner of his eye, still not fully turned towards her.

"Dear, it's over now. Please try not to dwell on the lost case. I'm sorry you're bored but you can't take it out on the wall." She gently explained. Sherlock pursed his lips, now turning to face her with a smidge of guilt. She would take it.

"Is that a head!" John shouted from the kitchen. Adara turned that direction before looking back at the man on the couch.

"I think he found your experiment. We probably should have warned him." she mused. Sherlock merely grunted.

"Just tea for us, thanks." Sherlock called back instead. John walked into the living room, staring at them incredulously.

"No, there's a head in the fridge." John reiterated. His irritation grew as he received blank looks.

"Yes." Adara nodded innocently. Dr. Watson blinked owlishly, amazed at the lack of reaction we was recieving.

"I told you he's done worse than shooting at a wall." She reminded with a small grin.

"A bloody head!"

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock snipped.

"You don't mind, do you?" he inquired as an afterthought, only sparing John a small glance.

"We got it from Bart's morgue." Adara explained. John buried his head into his hands. Why was she helping him with this? Not that he was all that surprised.

"I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." The man elaborated. John looked over at Adara in exasperation. She shrugged.

"He hasn't gotten around to buying a specialized freezer yet. I told him not to take the whole head home but contrary to what you believe he doesn't always listen to me." she calmly explained.

"I see you've written up the taxi driver case." Sherlock butted in, gesturing towards the open laptop on the table. John mumbled out a distracted 'yes' before plopping down onto Sherlock's silver armchair.

"A Study in Pink. Had a nice ring to it." Adara added with a grin. John frowned and stared between the two of them.

"I was only gone for a couple hours…." He pointed out in confusion. How had the two of them managed to go through all these things in just a short amount of time.

"Well that's a lot of time to half start a handful of projects. Sherlock doesn't focus on just one thing very well and reading your blog was the tamest activity I could tempt him to do." John hummed in mock understanding. Honestly, he should just be thankful the flat was still one piece. Minus the wall of course. Sherlock shot her a miffed look, not liking being talked about as if he were a child she was babysitting.

"So how did you decide on the name, John?" Adara inquired politely, prompting the man to engage in conversation. Obviously, she knew how he got the title but would try anything to keep the doctor distracted to maintain some level of sanity until Sherlock got another case. John blinked at her, clearing his throat distractedly.

"Well, you know. Pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?" he asked, looking between the duo expectantly. His expression faltered as Sherlock boredly began flipping through a magazine.

"Quite."

"Ummm….No." Sherlock and Adara turned to glare at one another. John stared at Sherlock offended at the negative answer.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered." John pointed out quietly. Sherlock lowered the magazine onto his chest, turning his glare at the man.

"Flattered?" he deadpanned in disbelief.

"_Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things…"_ John shook his head, holding up a hand in protest.

"Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a…"

"Oh, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way?" Sherlock interrupted sarcastically. He went to lift the magazine back up before roughly setting it down and glaring even fiercer at John as he remembered something.

"And I am not mothered by Adara who as you put it 'fills many of the emotional gaps that Sherlock so desperately is missing.'" he huffed irritably. Adara bit her lip and reached over to pat the man's thigh consolingly.

"He wasn't totally inaccurate, dear. While you are brilliant, there are small things you miss." She reminded. Sherlock bristled.

"Who cares about that stuff. It's superfluous and a waste of time." He countered. Adara bobbed her head back and forth thoughtfully.

"Maybe but a lot of it is very important to everyone else. Sometimes keeping up with popular trends can be useful." She rebutted. Sherlock groaned dramatically.

"Uh, dull." He grumbled.

"Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister.."

"I know…"

"….or who's sleeping with who…"

"Whether the Earth goes round the Sun…"John added quietly. Sherlock closed his eyes and threw his head back in exasperation.

"Not that again. It's not important." Sherlock snipped. John sat up in the chair to look at Sherlock properly.

"It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?" John argued. Sherlock pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes in frustration.

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it." He explained quietly.

"Deleted it?" John frowned in confusion. Adara and Sherlock shared a look before the man swung his feet around to sit up and face John.

"Listen. This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful…really useful." He explained, pointing to his head.

"Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?" Sherlock continued. John bit his lip, trying to keep in his comment.

"But it's the solar system!" he blurted. Sherlock sighed roughly, burying his head in his hands.

"Oh hell! What does that matter?!" he growled in frustration.

"Sherlock." Adara admonished gently, recognizing the impending explosion that he was heading for. Sherlock didn't like to be reminded of his imperfections; even more than that he hated to be made fun of. He heard her and waited a beat, trying to calm himself down.

"So we go around the Sun. If we went around the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear…" Sherlock's voice got increasingly louder as he went on, unable to maintain control of his ire.

"…it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots." He finished heatedly, scratching his hair aggressively before glaring at John.

"Sherlock, calm down. John didn't mean to…" Adara went ignored as Sherlock set his sights on his flat mate.

"Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." He snarled with finality, shoving the magazine across the table. The room was silent as he lied back on the sofa, turning his back to the room and swaddling himself tightly in his dressing gown, curling into a ball. Adara groaned, leaning her head into her hands. Now he had done it. Turning her head to face John she sent him a sympathetic frown.

"John…." She began to try and apologize but John held his hand up, silently prompting her to stop. She nodded, not wanting to upset him more. The damage had already been done. John stood abruptly and headed towards the door. Hearing the noise Sherlock looked over his shoulder curiously.

"Where are you going?" John jerked on his jacket.

"Out. I need some air." He answered tightly, before heading towards the stairs. Sherlock silently snarled and jerked the throw pillow towards him before returning to his fetal position. The couple sat in silence as John stormed down the stairs. As the door shut behind him Adara whirled around to face Sherlock. Well, face his back.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself." Sherlock grumbled before turning his head just enough, so his words weren't muffled.

"By your tone I would say you are not pleased. Please mother, tell me what I have done wrong this time." He snipped. Adara stood sharply.

"Now that is enough. You've had your sulk now you need to be an adult and get over yourself." She told him sternly. Sherlock tightened up even more into his ball, knowing if he turned around he would see her grey eyes staring daggers at him.

"I realize that your feelings were damaged by what John wrote but it was never his intention to hurt you. The man practically idolized you on his website and just because he put in a few, very accurate, imperfections in with it you decided to get defensive and malicious." She told him heatedly, putting her hands on her hips as she stared down at his figure. The man was too stubborn to face her but she knew he would at least listen.

"He practically told the world that I am a grown man who is socially inept and too much of a freak to keep track of what all the other simpleton's value." He snapped, before returning to his fetal position. Adara closed her eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Moving to sit directly behind him on the couch, she reached over and ran her fingers gently through his curls.

"Sherlock, John is not the people we went to Uni with. He is not those kids you grew up with. He's your friend. You may not admit it, but he is already becoming your closest friend besides me. That is not the message he was sending to the world. All he did was make you seem a bit more relatable and real. This blog is part of his therapy, it's basically his diary . This is how he sees you. Not as some freak, but as a real person who he enjoys being around. It's true you have your idiosyncrasies but so does everyone else." She soothed, never stopping her calming motions on his head. Sherlock slowly unfurled but didn't quite turn around to face her. Instead he opted to frown at the back of the sofa. Footsteps heading their direction shattered the moment and Adara looked up to see Mrs. Hudson on the landing.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." She politely greeted. Sherlock only turned his head enough to acknowledge her existence before turning back, this time stretching out his legs along the sofa.

"Hello dear. Where has Dr. Watson rushed off to?" she inquired in concern. The man had flown past her in a huff not too long ago. Sherlock flailed a bit, prompting Adara to remove herself from the couch. He stood up and walked straight across the coffee table to reach his destination by the window. Adara rolled her eyes at the immature gesture but let it slide. She watched with a small smile as Sherlock frowned like a sad puppy as he looked down the street at where John no doubt was walking away.

"Look at that Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful." Sherlock grimaced, taking in a drag of air.

"Isn't it hateful?" he groused, though much more subdued than his earlier fit. Adara quirked her lip. At least her was getting there. While he spoke, Mrs. Hudson unloaded some groceries from her shopping bags and set them on the kitchen table along with the receipt.

"Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder, that'll cheer you up." The older woman suggested with a chuckle. Adara sighed almost wistfully.

"It can't come soon enough." She hummed, shooting Mrs. Hudson a knowing look. The woman grinned, knowing Sherlock was a bear to deal with during the down times. Finished with her unloading she makes her way back into the living room; only to pause as she stared at the damaged wall.

"Hey what have you done to my bloody wall?!" she shouted. Sherlock turned to grin impishly as his work.

"I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" Mrs. Hudson angrily scolded before storming back downstairs.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!" Adara called, wincing as she heard the woman slam the door to her own flat.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Sherlock." She told Sherock with an amused smirk. He simply shrugged and turned to fully look at the bullet ridden smiley face. He grinned broadly at it, getting a snicker from Adara.

"Are you feeling better now?" she asks gently, walking to meet him in the middle of the room. Sherlock pursed his lips.

"I suppose so." He reluctantly admitted. Adara grinned, knowing he would remain stubborn about his feelings. Taking his noncommittal answer she wrapped her arms around his waist, grinning as he returned the favor…Suddenly a massive explosion rings out, shattering the windows of the flat and hurling the couple to the floor. Instinctively Sherlock shielded Adara's head as they fall amongst the debris. Sherlock groaned, and pushed himself up onto his forearms. His eyes flitted down to Adara worriedly as she gingerly touched a bruise on her cheek from hitting the coffee table. From the floor they both turned to stare at the gaping holes where the windows used to be.


	20. 12 Hours

The following morning John jogged around the corner, stopping briefly to stare at the damage done by the explosion across the street from his flat. He had been unaware of the incident until he saw the news playing while he was over at Sarah's place. Swallowing thickly, he pressed on towards the police barrier pushing his way through the crowd. He politely made his way closer to the tape, approaching an officer.

"Can I go through?" he inquired, pointing at the door of his building. The man looked back at the building and nodded, allowing John to pass. John quickly picked his way through the debris that littered the street along with the fire trucks and gear that had yet to be cleaned up. He stopped in the middle of the street gawking at the giant hole that covered multiple floors in the building across the street from him. Wanting to go and check on his friends who would have been in the flat he quickly continued towards 221B. An officer was standing just outside the building, keeping people away from the scene.

"I live here." John explained quietly as the man intercepted him. The officer stepped aside to let John unlock the door and bolt up the stairs.

...

"Sherlock! Adara!" he shouted on his way up, skipping stairs two at a time. The lack of response worried him. Entering the room his eye is drawn to the boarded-up windows in the living room. He then looked around and spotted the people he was looking for. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, seemingly uninjured and staring petulantly at the man opposite him. John noticed that he was fully clothed this time. He watched as Sherlock intermittently plucked at the strings of his violin that he cradled against his chest, not playing any type of tune. Just making noise. Adara walked in from the kitchen, holding two cups of tea.

"Hello John." She politely greeted, handing a cup to Mycroft who was sitting in John's chair while staring down his little brother. Sherlock and Mycroft had situated themselves to sit directly across from one another, their long legs nearly touching despite having them crossed. Mycroft grinned tightly in thanks at Adara, taking a sip before setting it aside. She continued on with her own cup and pulled out one of the desk chairs, taking a seat just behind Sherlock.

"John." Sherlock greeted in turn, shifting his eyes up at the man. Mycroft said nothing, merely glancing at him over his shoulder before turning back. No one other than John seemed bothered by the event last evening.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?" John inquired, looking between his two friends worriedly. Sherlock frowned, and looked up at him.

"Hmm? What?..." the man looked around casually at the mess of glass and debris that still littered the floor.

"Oh, yea. Fine. Gas leak, apparently." He quickly shrugged off, looking down and fiddling with his violin. John looked to Adara, knowing she would give the more honest answer.

"We really are fine, John. Just a couple bumps, nothing to worry about." She assured the man easily. John nodded, satisfied with her answer. Meanwhile Sherlock returned his attention to his brother, plucking the violin strings irritably. Mycroft stared at the man tiredly.

"I can't" Sherlock told his brother.

"Can't" Mycroft mused in disbelief, twirling his umbrella casually back and forth as it rested on the floor.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock explained airily, his fingers still moving across his instrument. Adara pursed her lips and quickly hid her expression behind her mug of tea. John however glanced at the man incredulously. Just yesterday evening he was complaining about his lack of task. Why was he lying?

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Mycroft insisted tiredly. Sherlock's expression soured and he slapped his hand over the strings to quite them.

"How's the diet?" he taunted instead, further proving that he wasn't going to entertain the subject any longer.

"Fine." Mycroft answered with wide eyes before turning to the man examining the windows.

"Perhaps you can get through to him, John." He suggested instead. John turned around in surprise having suddenly been brought into the conversation.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft elaborated. Sherlock pursed his lips and gave his attention to the violin.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" he suggested tightly.

"No, no, no, no, no….I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so…" The three others in the room looked at the man curiously as he trailed off.

"Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?" he grinned humorlessly. His eyes turned towards Adara.

"Especially you." Adara merely grinned impishly. On the sidelines, John watched the exchange in confusion. Shaking it off for now he returned to the topic at hand….though he still wasn't sure what the topic actually was.

"Besides, a case like this…it requires…" the man grimaced as he spat out the next word.

"…legwork." Mycroft finished. Sherlock plucked a bad note in reaction to his brother's distain. He glanced back at Adara and shared an amused grin at his brother's expense. Mycroft scowled.

"Why can't you have Adara do it? This seems like something more up her ally." John suggested.

"No, that wouldn't do." Mycroft quickly dismissed.

"Why?"

"I'm not allowed." Adara simpered childishly, aiming a pointed look at the elder Holmes.

"For a perfectly sound reason I assure you. You don't need to know the details." Mycroft informed John, who felt awfully left out. Clearly the other three were privy to information that he wasn't. Although that was really nothing new. Sherlock began playing his instrument again irritably. He paused mid-pluck and turned to face John.

"How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?" he inquired, watching John rub his neck.

"Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." Mycroft corrected, looking down at his pocket watch. Sherlock frowned, giving John a once over.

"Oh yes, of course." John stared at them incredulously, his mouth agape.

"How?...Oh, never mind." He grumbled, plopping down onto the coffee table. Adara grinned.

"Fun isn't it. I often forget how quick Mycroft can be." She hummed delightedly. Mycroft scowled at the insult.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became….pals." Mycroft noted instead, turning his attention back to John. Sherlock threw the man a dark look. Adara spotted it and nudged the man with the toe of her boot. No need to be offended by the comment. Mycroft ignored the whole thing, keeping his focus on John instead.

"What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"On the contrary Sherlock's quite…..enlightening." Adara chimed in with a teasing grin. Mycroft grimaced.

"Ugh…please refrain from discussing your affections in front of me. Besides, you don't even live here." Mycroft pointed out in mild disgust. She shrugged; unbothered. John smirked in amusement at the exchange before answering Mycroft.

"I'm never bored." He surmised with a small grin. Mycroft grinned falsely.

"Good! That's good, isn't it?" Sherlock remained silent, irked at how his brother was talking about him as if he wasn't there. Mycroft stood, gathering the folder in his hand. In retaliation Sherlock swiftly swung his bow out, preventing the man from coming closer. Mycroft scowled down at Sherlock who stared back unflinchingly. Mycroft grimaced and poked his cheek with his tongue; no doubt holding back some biting words at his brother's childish antics. His eyes pointedly flitted past Adara and he turned to John instead.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." The man explained. John startled and took the folder from him, glancing around at Sherlock curiously. Taking the action as a hopeful sign, Mycroft continued the explanation.

"A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?"

"Seems the logical assumption." John's lips quirked. That was too easy, especially if this was something he wanted Sherlock to investigate.

"But?"

"But?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." John pointed out. Sherlock, who was now applying rosin to his bow, chuckled. Adara grinned proudly as she watched John. He was learning.

"The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defense system, the Bruce-Partington Programme it's called." Mycroft turned back to look at Sherlock as John scanned the contents of the folder.

"The plans for it were on a memory stick."

"That wasn't very clever." John pointed out. Sherlock smirked in agreement.

"It's not the only copy." Mycroft whispered tightly as explanation.

"Still not a great idea." Adara countered. Mycroft flicked his eyes skyward before continuing his conversation.

"But it is secret. And missing." He elaborated.

"Top secret?" John asked.

"Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possible risk it falling into the wrong hands." Mycroft turned back to towards his brother.

"You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." he warned. Sherlock inhaled sharply, pulling his violin up to his chin in preparation to play. He stared calmly up at his brother.

"I'd like to see you try." He hissed challengingly. Mycroft leaned forward in an attempt to intimidate him.

"Think it over." Mycroft insisted. Adara grinned in amusement, thoroughly entertained by this whole spat.

"You know this would be so much easier if you just let me take the case." Adara pointed out, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I have no control over that. You are not allowed to interfere with anything pertaining to the government." He insisted. Adara threw her head back with a groan.

"I'll be good I promise. When was the last time you had an issue with me?" she asked with a grin. Mycroft pursed his lips.

"Just before you were put on the security watch." He deadpanned. Adara grinned in remembrance, not refuting his claim. She wasn't particularly remorseful about it either.

"Now that we have gotten that nonsense out of the way…..Goodbye John." Mycroft stuck his hand out to shake. Being the polite one John stood and took it.

"See you very soon." Mycroft grinned knowingly. John clenched his jaw. As Mycroft collected his coat Sherlock began playing a repetitive sequence of irritating notes, staring his brother down the whole time. John frowned in bewilderment as Sherlock continued his antics until Mycroft was out the door. The second he left Adara reached over and tightly clamped her hand down on the neck of the violin, preventing the strings from vibrating.

"That is more than enough." She insisted before gently letting it go. Sherlock lowered the violin reluctantly, still annoyed with the whole ordeal. John sat down on the coffee table once more. He pursed his lips in thought, glancing back and forth between Sherlock and where Mycroft had left.

"Why did you lie?" he asked curiously. Sherlock looked over at him as if confused to what he was talking about.

"You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?" John persisted. Sherlock scrunched up his face indifferently, rubbing his bow across his ear absently.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because it's childish." Adara quipped. Sherlock whipped around to glare at her. Her comment sparked a realization in John. He nodded.

"Oh….Oh, I see." Sherlock's gaze drifted his direction sharply.

"Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." John mused.

"Yes, the very core of their relationship. For grown men you two spend an awful lot of time antagonizing one another." Adare commented, looking at Sherlock pointedly. The man huffed and whipped around to face her, mouth open to argue. However, he was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He stared heatedly at Adara for a beat while she stared right back, unphased.

"You're going to want to answer that." She hummed with a grin. Sherlock rolled his eyes and set down his bow, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket.

"Sherlock Holmes." He answered briskly. Sherlock sat in silence as he listened.

"Of course. How could I refuse?" In one swift motion he clicked off the phone and stood, setting the violin onto his seat.

"Thank god. I was afraid he would be in a foul mood for the rest of the day." Adara muttered to John who chuckled. Sherlock made his way to the door.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" he asked, turning towards the two of them.

"I always do." Adara answered easily, filing in behind him. Sherlock looked to John.

"If you want me to." He answered, still unsure where he stood with the man after their last fight.

"Of course. I would be lost without my blogger." The man quipped, pulling on his coat.

...

...

Taking a taxi, the group soon arrives as Scotland Yard. Detective Inspector Lestrade met them in the lobby, filling them in as they walk back towards his office.

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Lestrade inquired.

"Obviously." Sherlock deadpanned.

"You'll love this. That explosion…."

"The gas leak?" Adara inquired for clarification as she followed alongside Sherlock.

"No."

"No?" Sherlock's brow rose curiously.

"No. Made to look like one." Lestrade explained as they turned into his office. Sherlock stared down at the plain white envelop lying on the desk.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box. A very strong box….and inside was this." the inspector explained, pointing to the envelope.

"Why didn't you open it?" Adara inquired, looking up at the man. Lestrade shrugged.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?" he pointed out. Sherlock reached for the envelope.

"We X-rayed it. It's not booby trapped." Lestrade informed him. Adara pursed her lips, shooting him a look. Sherlock paused, glancing down at it.

"How reassuring." He muttered. With the envelope in hand he moves to hold it under the desk lamp, carefully examining the handwritten 'Sherlock Holmes' on the front.

"Nice stationary. Bohemian." Adara commented, leaning forward to get a better look at it. Lestrade frowned in confusion.

"What?"

"It's from the Czech Republic." She clarified.

"No fingerprints?" Sherlock inquired.

"No."

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold. Iridium nib." Sherlock summarized, scanning the writing. Adara's eyes looked up at him sharply.

"She?" she asked uncertainly.

"Obviously." Adara pursed her lips, responding only with a noncommittal grunt. Sherlock eyed her but didn't comment. It wasn't often she disagreed, but that wasn't important right now.

"Obviously." John huffed sarcastically. Sherlock reached over to pick up a letter opener. He carefully sliced it open, being sure not to damage the envelope. His eyebrows rise in slight surprise at the contents. Reaching in he pulls out a pink IPhone. John stares at in in shock.

"But that's….that's the phone. The pink phone." He stutters, looking at Lestrade.

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked curiously.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look…." Sherlock froze midsentence, fully processing what Lestrade had said. He turned to face him in exasperation.

"The Study in Pink? You read his blog?" he asked. John winced, choosing to glance away.

"Course I read his blog! We all do. Do you really not know that the earth goes around the Sun?" Lestrade asked in surprise. From the doorway Sally Donovan, who had dropped off some files, snickered. Adara whipped around to glare at the woman fiercely. Sally made a quick exit. With the antagonist gone, Sherlock turned his attention back to the phone.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new." Sherlock explained, looking intently at the connection ports. None of them had scratches.

"Someone went through an awful lot of trouble to duplicate the phone." Adara hummed. Sherlock nodded.

"Meaning your blog has a far wider readership." Sherlock pointed out, shooting John an accusatory glance. John chose to ignore it, turning his head to look out the glass wall. Turning the phone on, it immediately speaks.

"You have one new message." The machine monotones. The message plays. Five short beeps.

"Is that it?" John inquires.

"No. That's not it." Sherlock countered, watching as a text alert popped up on the screen. He opened it to reveal a photograph. Lestrade, John and Adara hovered around Sherlock to look at the photo. An abandoned room with peeling wallpaper. An old fireplace was in the center with a tall mirror to the left. Adara frowned, taking note the whoever took the photo took care to angle the mirror away so it wouldn't catch their reflection.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips." he huffed. Sherlock narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"It's a warning." He muttered quietly.

"A warning?" Lestrade inquired, watching him intently. Sherlock turned his head towards them.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that…."

"It's a warning that this will happen again…" Adara trailed off in realization, finishing Sherlock's train of thought. Sherlock nodded, staring down at the photo again. He lifted it up so Adara could get a better look at it.

"Does this look familiar to you?" he asked, looking over at her curiously. Adara nodded and straightened up.

"I know exactly where that is." She told the group. Sherlock stood to follow after her. John and Lestrade quickly scurried after them.

"H-hang on. What's going to happen again?" John asked. With Adara still walking alongside him Sherlock spun around.

"Boom!" he dramatically answered, his hands mimicking an explosion. Adara gently nudged his arm, steering him to avoid a trashcan as he walked backwards. When he got his point across Sherlock whipped back around and exited the room. John and Lestrade were close behind.

...

...

The group arrived back at 221 Baker Street, all four of them piling out of the taxi. Sherlock leads the way and unlocks the front door, slipping past the stairwell towards Mrs. Hudson's flat at the end of the hall. However, he stops short and looks at the door just before it. 221C.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock shouts, turning his head to face the landlady's door. Adara rolled her eyes.

"Sherlock, there is no need to shout. You are only a few steps away." She scolded, instead taking time to knock on the woman's door. Sherlock grunted and crossed his arms, waiting impatiently by the apartment door. Lestrade and John waited quietly behind Sherlock, both still a bit lost as to what was going on. Soon the door opened, and Mrs. Hudson looked at the group in pleasant surprise.

"Oh what's all the fuss about?" she inquired.

"A case has come up and we need to get into 221C. It's rather urgent." Adara explained with a pleasant smile. The landlady frowned in confusion before turning back into her flat to grab the key. She quickly returned and walked out, handing Adara the key. With a nod of thanks Adara makes her way over to join the boys. Sherlock glances up at her from where he had been examining the padlock on the door. Adara hands him the keys, letting him open the door.

"You and Adara had a look, didn't you? When you first came to see about your flat." Mrs. Hudson commented, hovering on the side. Sherlock frowned at the lock, peering closely at the keyhole.

"The door's been opened recently." He pointed out.

"No, that can't be. That's the only key." Mrs. Hudson countered, her face pulling into a frown. Sherlock pulled the padlock off and puts the key into the keyhole.

"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements." Mrs. Hudson explained to the group, passing the time with idle chit chat. Ignoring her, Sherlock opens the door immediately followed by the others.

"I had a place once when I was first married. Black mold all up the walls…" the landlady continued to prattle. Each one sent her a strained grin as the went inside. Mrs. Hudson was officially cut off as Lestrade closed the door behind him. Adara turned around to frown at him.

"Was that really necessary?"

"I don't think she was going to stop otherwise." He pointed out sheepishly. Adara chuckled and said nothing further on the matter. In silence the group descended the stairs to the basement. Sherlock slowly pushes open the door, walking into the main room of the flat. It remained untouched, looking identical to the photograph. The only anomaly was a pair of white trainers in the middle of the floor, facing them.

"Shoes." John muttered. Adara turned to face him.

"Yes, very well done, John." She drolled sarcastically. John huffs, turning his face away in embarrassment. Sherlock takes a step towards them but is quickly stopped when John puts out his hand.

"He's a bomber, remember." He told the man warningly. Taking the advice Sherlock continues but at a slower pace. A few steps away he crouches down, leaning forward on his hands to get closer to the shoes. As in inches closer the phone rings. Sherlock jumped, closing his eyes a moment to collect himself. Standing back up he pulls off his gloves to take out the pink phone. The number was blocked. Meanwhile Adara was glancing around the room as best she could in the dark. The timing was too coincidental. Sherlock answered the phone, putting it on speaker as he locked eyes with her. He had the same train of thought.

"Hello?" Sherlock softly answered. The caller drew in a shaky breath before speaking.

"H…hello….sexy." the woman answered tearfully. The group glanced at one another in mild alarm.

"Who's this?" Sherlock continued; his face still blank as he listened intently. The woman sniffled as she continued to cry on the other side.

"I've….sent you…a little puzzle….just to say hi." Sherlock frowned.

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?" he asked.

"I..I'm not ….. crying….I'm typing…..and this….stupid….bitch….is reading it out." the woman shakily answered, sobbing a bit at the end. Adara pursed her lips tightly, staring down at the phone as if it had offended her. She did not like this one bit.

"The curtain rises…." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Adara, being the closest, shot her eyes to him anxiously.

"What?" John asked.

"Nothing." The taller man quickly dismissed. But John wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"No, what did you mean?" he insisted. Sherlock turned his head slightly.

"I've been expecting this for some time." He explained. John's head jerked back in surprise and looked to Adara. She returned his gaze solemnly.

"Twelve hours to solve….my puzzle, Sherlock…." The woman on the like shakily continued. Adara and Sherlock shared a relieved glance, away from the other two. Whoever it was didn't mention her, she was still anonymous.

"….or I'm going….to be….so naughty." The woman sobbed just before the line went dead. Sherlock and Adara straightened up.

"Lestrade see if you can get a trace on the number, this woman is in trouble." She instructed, watching as the man nodded before taking off back to Scotland Yard. She turned to John next.

"Get us a lab at St. Barts, we need one to ourselves to work. Get the best one you can." John nodded, already turning and pulling out his cell. When they were left alone in the room Sherlock frowned at her.

"You know he won't be able to track it. The bomber has been meticulous up until now. It's too early for them to make a simple mistake like that." He explained. Adara nodded.

"Just needed to get rid of him. John too, although it will save us a few minutes." Sherlock nodded, staring down at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Adara bit her lip, turning her head to scan the room.

"He's enjoying this. It's a game to him and for some reason he's decided to let you in to play. The end game is what worries me." She explained, looking up at him thoughtfully. Sherlock sighed.

"That's what we need to find out. I'll play along until we can find an opportunity to look further into this." Adara tiredly rubbed her hand down her face.

"Not much choice at this point." She admitted, knowing he was right but still not liking it. Sherlock nodded, glancing around he led her out of the small room to stand in the staircase. Being out of the open seemed to calm her nerves a bit. In the solitude he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She relaxed fully in his arms, wrapping her own around his waist as they stood their quietly. Sherlock set his chin on top of her head, blinking as he realized something.

"You said, he." He murmured. Adara nodded in his chest.

"Just a hunch. I know people. I know the envelope looks feminine but there are parts of this whole scenario that say male. They could have had a woman write it. Or he has great handwriting. Whoever it is, is very fluid at playing both parts." She thought aloud. Sherlock hummed in thought.

"There's something else you aren't telling me." He commented lowly. Sherlock held her shoulders and pulled away to look her in the eye. Adara glanced down.

"I can't help but feel like is going to come back to me." She admitted. Sherlock scoffed.

"Doubtful. As far as we know the bomber isn't aware of you."

"Yes, but I'm afraid they'll force my hand and everything we've been so careful about with unravel. I don't want to put a bigger target on your back." She lamented, twisting her hands anxiously. Sherlock's lip quirked up at her concern. He gently reached down to grab her hands, stopping their movements. Adara looked up at him.

"I've always known that something would happen, whether it stem from you or from me. The odds are too great for it not to be a possibility. That knowledge has not deterred me from remaining with you all these years. The implementation of the event certainly won't change that now." Sherlock told her seriously. Adara grinned up at him fondly.

"You know….that's one of the most romantic things you've ever said to me." She mused with a chuckle. Sherlock smirked proudly.

"Despite what others might think, I am not totally devoid of emotions." He quipped. Adara hummed, still grinning at him.

"That certainly is true." She agreed. Tilting her head up she pressed a kiss to his lips. Pulling away she gestured her head back towards the empty room.

"We should probably grab the shoes and go. Time is wasting." She suggested. Sherlock cleared his throat and straightened himself up.

"Of course." He nodded, swiftly heading inside to collect the evidence.


	21. Carl Powers

Over at St. Bart's hospital Sherlock slips on a pair of latex gloves to closely examine the trainers on the table, peering at them closely from all angles. Using some tweezers, he scraped dirt from the soles and placed them in a dish. After setting the soil aside for testing, he in turn examines other fibers under a microscope. Adara sat on a bench near the back of the room, using the computer to do some further research on the shoes and where they might have come from. John meanwhile anxiously paces up and down the opposite side of the bench.

"So who do you suppose it was?" he inquired. Sherlock hummed in question..

"The woman on the phone…the crying woman." John reiterates.

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there." Sherlock quickly dismissed. John's face scrunched up exasperatedly.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads."

"You're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock pointed out. Glancing up at the scanner on the computer next to him, he frowned, spotting the message of 'NO MATCH'. He goes back to the microscope.

"Are…are they trying to trace it? Trace the call?" John inquired. Adara glanced up from her computer.

"The bomber is too smart, John. There's no point." She told him gently. John stared at her incredulously.

"But you asked Lestrade to…"

"Just to give him something do to. It makes people feel like they're being useful and making a difference. Worked for you until now." She pointed out. John frowned, thinking back to what she had asked of him earlier. He slowly turned his displeased look her direction, realizing what she had done. Adara merely shrugged, going back to the research. Meanwhile Sherlock's text alert goes off.

"Pass me my phone." He requested. John spun around, unable to find the device.

"Where is it?"

"Jacket." Sherlock grunted. John straightened, staring at the man heatedly from across the room. He stiffly marched over, slamming one hand onto Sherlock's shoulder while roughly rummaging through his jacket unnecessarily.

"Careful." Sherlock snipped. Out of sight Adara rolled her eyes skyward at their childish antics. John swallowed his retaliation and instead looked at the phone screen.

"Text from your brother."

"Delete it." John frowned curiously.

"Delete it?"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock explained dismissively. John looked back down at the message.

...

** Bruce-Partington Plans**

** Any progress on Andrew West's death?**

** -Mycroft-**

...

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times…"

"Twelve." Adara contradicted, her eyes not leaving the screen. The boys turned to her curiously.

"Eight on Sherlock's phone and four on mine." She answered, smirking lightly. Sherlock's lip quirked.

"Must be getting quite impatient if he's contacted you." he hummed in amusement.

"Must be important then." John insisted. Sherlock turned to look at him in exasperation.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" he hissed in annoyance. John sighed, knowing he was missing yet another detail. He shifted, facing Sherlock more fully.

"His what?"

"Mycroft would never send a text if he were able to talk." Adara answered as explanation. John nodded thoughtfully, looking to Sherlock for the rest.

"Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of the story. The only mystery is, why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being to delightfully interesting?" Sherlock hummed, turning back to his work. Adara glanced over at him, narrowing her eyes curiously. She would have to keep an eye on him. He was starting to get invested in this game and most likely wouldn't be able to dig out of whatever hole he got himself into. Nothing good would come of playing with things this dangerous.

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die." John smirked sarcastically, irked at the man's attitude.

"What for?" Sherlock deadpanned, looking back up at John.

"This hospital is full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them." John clenched his jaw, turning away in disbelief. Unphased by his negative reaction, Sherlock began to return to his microscope when the computer flashed with positive results. He grinned in delight. At this moment Molly Hooper made her way into the room with a timid grin.

"Any luck?" she inquired politely, glancing at both Adara and Sherlock. However, her gaze lingered on the tall man longer than necessary.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock answered. As she peered over his shoulder, the door opened again revealing a dark haired man with a tight t-shirt and slacks. Adara's eyes flitted up to watch as he curiously stepped inside, before quickly apologizing.

"Oh, sorry….I didn't…." he stuttered, turning to walk back out.

"Yes, you did. But come on inside anyway." Adara hummed, tilting her head to look at him more fully. The man paused, his eyes widening innocently as he stood awkwardly in the doorframe.

"Jim! Hi! Come in!" Molly greeted the stranger with a wide grin. Sherlock glanced up from his work to look the small woman over briefly, getting all the information he needed for her sudden delight. Deeming it irrelevant he went back to his work. However, Adara kept her eyes locked on the man entering their space. She kept on a mask of neutral curiosity, not wanting to frighten him away. Her mind was whirling in thought, knowing that something just wasn't right. But she couldn't place what.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." Molly introduced, grinning back at the man. Likewise, Jim's gaze was locked on Sherlock as he got closer. Adara rose her brow in amusement from behind them. John turns and stares at Molly blankly. The woman blushes, realizing her blunder.

"And, uh…sorry." She flusters. John decides to save her the embarrassment and introduce himself.

"John Watson, hi. And that's Adara." John introduced politely. Jim barely glanced in either direction as he nodded. The man's eyes quickly returned to Sherlock in the center. Adara's eyes narrowed as she silently watched the man gawk at her boyfriend. Most of this seemed genuine enough but almost overboard with the performance.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" he asked, stepping closer to Sherlock and practically forcing John out of the way.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." Molly gushed. She giggled along with Jim as they locked eyes. Sherlock glanced over at Jim like he did Molly before returning back to work.

"Gay." He deadpanned instantly. Molly's face fell.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock raised his head, belatedly realizing what he had done.

"Nothing, um hey." He quickly corrected, shooting Jim a false grin. Jim's eyes sparkle as he stares back in a daze.

"Hey." He mutters, setting his hand on the metal dish and knocking it off loudly. Everyone watches silently as the man flounders and picks it back up. John rolling his eyes skyward, not believing this was happening.

"Sorry, sorry." Jim stuttered nervously. Adara's eyes shot down as she watched the man place the tin back up on the table….almost the same as it was. She rolled her eyes as well. Sherlock caught the anomaly as well and clenched his jaw.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox? About six-ish?" Jim muttered, placing a hand on her back.

"Yeah." Molly grinned. Over her head Jim turned back to smile at Sherlock.

"Bye."

"Bye." Molly answered softy, not noticing that it wasn't meant for her.

"It was nice meeting you." Jim continued smiling at Sherlock. The room falls into uncomfortable silence as Jim continues staring expectantly while Sherlock ignores him, focused on work.

"Trying a bit hard to prove a point, are we?" Adara quipped, her eyes narrowing darkly. Jim jolted out of his stupor and frowned at her in confusion. Adara's eyes locked with his and her head tilted curiously at the contrast. He was reacting one way, but his eyes spoke of something completely different. None of the parts were fitting together. Curious.

"What?" Molly asked in confusion, her eyes darting between the two anxiously. No one answered.

"Nice meeting you too." John uncomfortably blurted. Jim blinked, turning to look at the man before nodding awkwardly. He turned to walk out and Molly waited until he left before whipping around to face Sherlock.

"What do you mean, gay? We're together." She pointed out, her grin wavering. Sherlock merely glanced at her.

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you." he hummed.

"Two and a half." Molly defended tightly.

"Nuh, three." He corrected easily. Adara threw a pen at his head. Sherlock flinched and whipped around in his chair to stare at her incredulously.

"That is quite enough Sherlock. You don't make comments like that, it's hurtful." She admonished. Sherlock scowled.

"You say things like that to Mycroft all the time." He pointed out childishly. Adara rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Mycroft is different than most, even you can admit that. Molly is fragile, she doesn't need that kind of confrontation." Molly squeaked indignantly at the comment. Adara looked over at her apologetically.

"Sorry Molly, but I need him to get the point." She smiled tightly, turning her gaze back to Sherlock. The man pouted childishly. Molly's anger returned as he was brought back to the center of attention.

"He's not gay. Why do you have to spoil….He's not." She insisted, trying to keep her quickly crumbling composure together. Sherlock snorted.

"With that level of personal grooming?"

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John countered.

"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No, no. Tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear." Sherlock began.

"His underwear?" Molly asked incredulously.

"Visible above the waistline. Very visible, very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under the dish here…" Sherlock finished, lifting up the metal dish that had been knocked over. Underneath it was a small piece of paper with a phone number written across it. Molly stared it, horrified.

"…I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." He finished. Molly remained silent as she processed everything. Her chin wobbling, she turned and sprinted out of the room. Sherlock blinked in surprise.

"Charming, well done." John scolded.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock inquired in confusion.

"Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind." John shook his head. Sherlock sighed, done with the conversation, and instead shifted the trainers in front of John to draw his attention to them.

"Go on, then." John frowned, staring down the items skeptically. His brows furrowed, looking at the taller man in confusion.

"You know what I do. Off you go." Sherlock insisted, crossing his arms expectantly. John grunted in displeasure.

"No."

"Go on."

"I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate…."

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me." Sherlock cut him off pointedly.

"Yeah right! Adara would be much more useful than I would be and we both know that." John countered.

"I've already run this by her. Her opinions are similar to mine. I need something completely different." John frowned at the man before glancing back at Adara for confirmation. She nodded her head encouragingly towards the shoes on the table. With her affirmation, John turned back towards the trainers. He picked up one of the shoes and looked at it intently, sparing a glance at the other still on the table.

"I dunno. They're just a pair of shoes. Trainers." John huffed, correcting himself.

"Good." Sherlock nodded, picking up his cell. Encouraged by the praise John continues.

"Umm…..they're in good nick. I'd say they were pretty new" Sherlock bristled in annoyance, watching John intently.

"….except the sole has been well-worn so the owner must have had them for a while." The taller man let out a silent breath when he finally got the correct answer. John was picking it up well.

"Uh, they're very eighties. Probably one of those retro designs."

"You're in sparkling form. What else?" Sherlock pressed, his eyes fixed on his cell.

"Well, they're quite big so a man's"

"But?" Adara hummed, watching the man go. John turned over the shoe, looking inside.

"But there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adult's don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid." John finished.

"You're doing fantastic, keep going." Adara beamed, looking over to see that Sherlock had a matching grin. John frowned, looking at the shoe in his hand before setting it down.

"That's it." He shrugged.

"That's it?" John nodded.

"How did I do?" he inquired.

"Well, John; really well." John began smiling…..up until Sherlock continued talking.

"I mean you missed almost everything of importance but, um, you know…." He trailed off, holding a hand out towards his friend. John pursed his lips at the insult and handed the shoe over to Sherlock.

"The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three….."

"…four.."

"….four times." Sherlock shot a small glare at Adara as she corrected him. Meanwhile, John lowered his head in despair. He just couldn't win with these two.

"Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British made, twenty years old." John straightened up in surprise.

"Twenty years?"

"They're not retro, they're original." Adara elaborated. Sherlock held up the website that Adara had sent to him. It was easier to send the information to him via cell then have the man get up to join her. Heaven forbid she ask him to move. He wouldn't even shift to pull his phone from his own pocket.

"Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eight-nine."

"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John pointed out.

"Someone's kept them that way." Adara hummed. Sherlock eyed the trainers thoughtfully.

"Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shoes it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it."

"How do you know?" John frowned. Adara stood and pointed towards the computer next to Sherlock that had found a match as she joined them.

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference." She explained.

"South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London to Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind." Sherlock surmised.

"So what happened to him?" John inquired. Sherlock sucked in a breath.

"Something bad. He loved these shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them to go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets….." Sherlock trailed off, his eyes widening in realization.

"Oh…." John frowned in confusion while Adara watched the man silently.

"What?"

"Carl Powers." Sherlock muttered softly.

"Who is that?" Adara asked, pulling out her cell to look up the name.

"Carl Powers." He reiterated, allowing her to look up the name.

"What is it?" John asked, watching as Sherlock stared off into the distance.

"It's where I began."

...

...

After getting what they could from the lab the trio took a taxi back to Baker Street.

"1989 a young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident." Sherlock elaborated, showing John the newspaper story on his phone as they rode.

"I don't remember hearing about this." Adara frowning as she listened, having read the article back at the lab.

"Why should you?" he shrugged, not bothered by that fact.

"But you remember?" John asked.

"Yes."

"Something fishy about it?" he inquired.

"Nobody thought so. Nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers." Sherlock told him.

"Started young, didn't you?" John hummed thoughtfully. Adara grinned, just imagining little Sherlock all in a tizzy over this case.

"The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head." Sherlock huffed irritably, shifting in his seat.

"What?" John asked.

"His shoes."

"What about them?" Adara inquired.

"They weren't there. I made a fuss, I tried to get the police interested but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes." Sherlock lamented, throwing his hands about. Adara looked down at the trainers in the bag by his feet.

"….until now." She whispered thoughtfully. Reaching into her pocket for her phone, she scanned over the list of contacts before landing on the one she wanted.

...

** Carl Powers. Shoes missing from locker. Find something to work with.**

...

Deleting the message after it sent, she glanced at Sherlock who nodded minutely.

...

...

Filing into the flat Sherlock set the trainers on the table. Looking at his watch he checked the time. Seeing that he had some minutes to spare he grabbed Adara and silently led her to his room.

"Sherlock what are…" John asked in confusion as they walked away, but his question was cut off with the slamming of the door. Sherlock walked away from the door to the opposite corner of his room before he let go of her hand. Adara remained silent as he turned to face her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Adara blinked in confusion.

"To what are you referring?" she inquired. Sherlock pursed his lips.

"Ever since we left the lab you've been quiet. Something's on your mind. I would like to know what." He elaborated. Adara nodded thoughtfully.

"It's Jim." She admitted. Sherlock frowned.

"Who?" Adara stared up at him in exasperation.

"Molly's new man. The one we met an hour ago." Sherlock thought back thoughtfully before shrugging, not seeing what the problem was.

"Are you upset that I revealed his sexuality to Molly? I thought you would be glad I let her know before it got serious." He frowned, completely lost. Adara rubbed her forehead.

"No not that. He just doesn't sit right. And he's not gay." She pointed out. Sherlock jerked back indignantly.

"Yes he is. I told you why." He countered sourly. Adara crossed her arms.

"Sherlock your explanation was very stereotypical. Yes, it was true but over half of it was staged. He wanted to appear that way." Sherlock scowled, his eyes darting to the side as he thought it over.

"His lashes weren't acclimated to the product he was using; it was only a couple days old at most. Loads of people use taurine cream, men and women. His bloodshot eyes could be from staying up late for work while having a drink or two. Looks the same in the long run. And even you said the underwear was super obvious. It was meant to grab attention." She explained. Sherlock stared down at her thoughtfully.

"He left me his number and practically breathed down my neck to get my attention." He countered. Adara pursed her lips.

"And he also went out on dates with Molly. He had to have been fairly convincing for no one else to say anything. I don't think he was strictly gay. Perhaps pan or asexual. He didn't seem to be interested in the physical aspect of attraction. It opens up the doors much wider than one gender." Sherlock frowned silently, prompting her to continue.

"The man never once scanned your physique; it was all your face. He's fascinated with your mind. From a distance it came across as borderline obsessed. It had nothing to do with you being a man." She shot back with a shrug. The man grunted before shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter anyway he was just an insignificant bystander. So why does his presence bother you?" he asked her curiously. Adara gnawed on the inside of her lip.

"Just….it didn't fit. There were too many opposing factors flying about. But the thing that bothers me the most is that only professionals know how to work an act like that. People who can manipulate others so well are dangerous." She whispered. Sherlock smirked.

"You can do it." He pointed out. Adara glanced down at the floor sheepishly.

"But I don't. Not anymore." Sherlock stepped closer and pressed a light kiss to her head.

"I'm sure you're just on edge. There is nothing to worry about." He assured gently. Adara smiled to appease him but she wasn't convinced. The sound of her phone pinging broke the silence in the room.

...

** Check email**

...

"We should go check what he found. Times ticking." She murmured, already turning to walk out of the room. Sherlock followed behind.


	22. Four Pips

** FIVE HOURS**

...

Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen scanning through photographs and newspaper clippings that had been sent to his email from the anonymous 'friend'. It was easier than trying to search for everything himself. He had shut himself in the kitchen, leaving Adara and John on the other side of the sliding privacy doors. Adara was scanning over some research of her own while John paced the length of the room anxiously. Checking his watch again he huffed before peeking his head into the kitchen.

"Can I help?" he asked. Sherlock didn't react, his eyes still locked on the pages in front of him. John sighed before speaking up a gain.

"I want to help. There's only five hours left." He insisted anxiously. John frowned as a text alert sounded from his pants pocket. Adara glanced up at him silently before going back to her work.

**Any developments? – Mycroft Holmes**

"It's your brother. He's texting me now." John pursed his lips, looking over at the man in the kitchen pointedly. John blinked, his face dropping into a frown as a sudden thought hit him.

"How does he know my number?"

"Mycroft has connections, and he is rather intelligent." Adara answered evenly, her gaze not straying from her laptop. From the other room Sherlock grunted in displeasure.

"Must be a root canal." he mused. John rolled his eyes and put his phone away before stepping further into the kitchen.

"Look he did say national importance." John pointed out. Sherlock snorted, switching out a set of papers.

"How quaint." He murmured.

"What is?"

"You are. Queen and country." Sherlock hummed, scanning the new documents. John clenched his jaw.

"You can't just ignore it." He countered sternly.

"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now." Sherlock insisted distractedly. John visibly relaxed.

"Right. Good." He folded his arms in satisfaction before pausing and staring at Sherlock curiously.

"Who's that?" he asked. Sherlock glanced up at him with a smirk.

"You of course." He pointed out. John blinked owlishly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I am. Look, I even have his office address so you can go meet with him." Sherlock handed John the sticky note with the address on it. John frowned, taking it from him.

"Alright….I guess I'll just head over there and get on it. I'll keep you updated." John nodded, turning to grab his coat and head off. Adara remained silent as she watched John leave in a hurry. When the door shut behind him, she stood and silently made her way over towards the kitchen doors. She slid them open and stared down at the man at the table.

"Any reason you sent John to look into the West case? You know I'm already checking out my own sources on that." She hummed walking in and leaning on the table. Sherlock glanced up at her fleetingly.

"Taking a page out of your playbook. He wants to be useful, so I sent him on an errand that also got him out of my hair. Two birds, one stone." He muttered. Adara smirked in amusement.

"Got it. Anything I can help with?" she inquired. Sherlock paused and glanced up at her. Before he could answer, her eyes narrowed warningly.

"And be honest. Don't send me on a stupid goose chase like you did to John." She insisted. Sherlock smirked at how perceptive she was. He shook his head.

"Not at the moment. I need to think." He explained. Adara nodded and turned to walk out the doors, closing it behind her. Glancing at the clock she hummed, knowing they were beginning to hit a time crunch. Walking back over to her own laptop she accessed a hidden server she had running behind her other internet searches. Glancing up at the doors once more she waited for a beat to make sure he was absorbed in his work. Deeming it safe Adara quickly got to work on her own separate research project. Might as well use the alone time while she could.

...

** THREE HOURS**

...

Sherlock had moved from his previous position at the table and was staring into his personal microscope at the counter nearby. Adara smiled politely up at Mrs. Hudson as she entered the flat with a tray of mugs, John trailing in behind her. Walking into the kitchen she set them down on the table. Sherlock abruptly looked up.

"Poison." he blurted in realization. The landlady stared at him in confusion.

"What are you going on about?" she asked. Sherlock slammed his hands down on the table, causing the utensils to rattle. This alerted the other two in the flat.

"Clostridium botulinum!" he declared, startling the older woman. Mrs. Hudson quickly fled the kitchen at his outburst. Adara and John walked over from the living room.

"What is this about poison?" Adara inquired.

"It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!" Sherlock continued, ignoring her question.

"Ah, clever." Adara mused thoughtfully. John glanced between the two blankly.

"Carl Powers." Sherlock pointed out for the man.

"Oh wait, are you saying he was murdered?" John inquired. Sherlock stood and made his way over to the shoelaces that had been hung up on the opposite end of the kitchen turned laboratory.

"Remember the shoelaces? The boy suffered from eczema." Sherlock reminded. Adara nodded along.

"It would be super easy to slip some of the poison into his medication. It would soak into his skin and wouldn't reveal itself until hours later." She added thoughtfully. John stared at her incredulously. Before he could comment on how well she thought that through Sherlock continued explaining the train of thought.

"Exactly two hours later. He comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns." He finished for John's benefit.

"How…how…how come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" he inquired in confusion.

"That strain of poison is virtually undetectable unless you're looking for it. It's the perfect murder, really. Takes someone who knows what they're doing." Adara waved dismissively. John once again turned to look at her warily.

"You have thought this through." He pointed out with a frown. Adara blinked.

"Well it is part of my job to. Don't think too much of it." She insisted airily. Meanwhile, Sherlock had walked around the table to where his laptop was. He pulled up the forum for his website, 'The Science of Deduction'. Adara walked to look over his shoulder as he sent a message.

**FOUND. Pair of trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989). **

"There were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet." Sherlock added as he gestured to the laces.

**Botulinum toxin still present. Apply 221b Baker St.**

Sherlock grinned as he sent the message out.

"That's why they had to go. Leave no evidence behind." Adara murmured, staring at the laces. Whoever had done this was very good. Sherlock straightened out proudly, setting his hands on his hips as they waited for a response.

"So how do we let the bomber know…"

"Get his attention…stop the clock." Sherlock answered breathlessly. John hummed in understanding. Sherlock glanced down at his watch.

"The killer kept the shoes all these years." John mused thoughtfully.

"Yes. Meaning…" Sherlock trailed off, looking over at his companion.

"He's our bomber." John finished. All three heads whip around as the pink phone rings on the counter. Sherlock reached over and quickly put it on speaker. More sobbing was heard on the other line.

"Well done you…..come and get me." The woman cried, obviously reading what was typed for her. She let out a large sigh of relief, her sobbing increasing.

"Where are you? Tell us where you are." Sherlock insisted. The woman broke down in more terrified sobs as she gave her location. Adara pulled out her cell and called Lestrade, relaying the information so they could get the poor woman.

...

...

The following morning Sherlock, Adara, and John were back in Lestrade's office. Sherlock stood by the window, looking towards the main office area. His fingers were steepled together, tapping out a rhythm as he stared ahead thoughtfully. John sat opposite Lestrade by the desk while Adara stood behind him.

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house." Lestrade explained. He looked up as Sherlock turned towards them.

"Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager." John reached out and picked up the pager that he had set on the desk.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Adara hummed knowingly. Lestrade furrowed his brows curiously.

"I never mentioned the sniper." He pointed out. Adara shrugged innocently.

"I would assume there was a sniper. That or someone holding the bomb detonator. There had to be some immediate incentive." She explained easily. Lestrade nodded, his brows raising in surprise that she had known that. He couldn't argue with the logic.

"She would have also been set off if you hadn't solved the case." John added, glancing over at Sherlock who had strolled back over by the window.

"Oh. Elegant." Sherlock murmured softly. John sighed in exasperation.

"Elegant?" he asked irritably, frowning down at the desk. Adara smirked at him.

"John, sometimes you have to admire the thought that went into this. The detail is very…elegant." She hummed. John frowned deeper, very much disproving of the idea.

"Blowing people up is not elegant. I don't think you two should be enjoying this as much as you are." He scolded. She nodded in agreement.

"Point taken."

"But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?" Lestrade questioned incredulously, clearly bothered as most normal people would be.

"Oh I cant be the only person in the world that gets bored." Sherlock pointed out dryly. Adara rose her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation.

"I thought just one of you was bad enough. Looks like both of you need to have some healthy redirection of this boredom." She pointed out, thinking back to the battered wall in the flat. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her over his shoulder. The moment was broken by the sound of an incoming message from the pink phone. They all turned to watch as Sherlock opened it up.

"You have one new message." The automated voice chimed in, followed by four beeps.

"Four pips." John pointed out.

"First test passed; it would seem. Here's the second." Sherlock thought aloud, walking over towards Lestrade. He tilted the phone to show the new photograph, a close up of an abandoned car with the driver door wide open. The license plate was easily visible in order to track it. A phone rings from the main lobby moments after they are shown the picture. Adara rose her brow curiously, glancing back to watch Sally Donovan answer. It was no coincidence, and the timing was very precise. Her eyes flitted around the glass office, mentally frowning at how exposed they were. It would be very easy to watch their movements and reactions. However, the men in the room ignored it, still transfixed on the pink phone.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock inquired pointedly, looking to Lestrade.

"I'll see if it's been reported." As he picked up the phone to make the call, Sally Donovan walked into the room with another phone in hand.

"Freak, it's for you." she informed dryly. Sherlock walked over to the door to take the phone from her, with Adara on his heels. She gently pushed on his back to get him out of Lestrade's office and around the corner to a spot with much less windows. He eyed her strangely but yielded to her silent directions while taking the call. John frowned in confusion as he watched from the office, still able to see them across the room.

"Hello?" Sherlock answered.

"It's okay that you've gone to the police." A shaky male voice rang out over the line.

"Who is this? Is this you again?" Sherlock questioned, his body tensing and focusing completely. John straightened up with interest as he saw the change in posture.

"But don't rely on them." The man continued, ignoring the question.

"Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him." Sherlock glanced at Adara sharply, their minds whirling as they added this to the total equation.

"Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing." John slowly approached them, listening to the conversation.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume." Sherlock continued, wanting to get the mystery phoner to reveal anything.

"This is about you and me." The shaky voice countered.

"Who are you?" Sherlock insisted.

"What's that noise?" he asked, listening hard to the collection of noise in the background.

"The sounds of life, Sherlock." The stranger sobbed. Adara frowned at the effort in his voice to keep from falling apart.

"But don't worry….I can soon fix that." The man stopped talking to let out some sobs before quickly getting himself back together. Adara clenched her jaw tightly. The man was clearly somewhere near a lot of people and traffic. How was no one noticing this?

"You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight." The phone went dead. Sherlock blinked thoughtfully before looking up as Lestrade joined them.

"We've found it." The inspector informed them before heading out the door. Sherlock hesitated, his mind trying to pick up the pieces left for him. Seeing his hyper-focus Adara reached up to pull the phone away from his ear.

"File it away for later, right now we have a car to search." She whispered pointedly, making sure she had eye contact with the man. Sherlock blinked before nodding and following her out.

...

...

A police perimeter had been set up around the abandoned dock site where the abandoned car had been found. Lestrade, Sherlock, and Adara led the way with John and Sally trailing behind. Lestrade opened up the file in his hands, reading it aloud as they walked under the police tape towards the vehicle.

"The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind. City boy. Paid in cash." Adara rose her brow curiously. Sherlock eyed a sobbing woman talking with a female officer as they passed.

"Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived." The trio stepped closer to the open door of the car while Sally turned to John.

"You're still hanging around him." she pointed out, pursing her lips.

"Yeah, well…"

"Opposites attract, I suppose." She hummed. John sighed in annoyance.

"You know full well that we are not together." He growled. Sally shrugged.

"I don't know what the freak is into. Could be a polygamist." She countered. John rolled his eyes, not wanting to push the issue any further. If anything, Sherlock would be the furthest things from a polygamist. He was just an….Adara-ist. Lord knows no one else would be suitable enough for the man.

"You should get yourself a hobby. Stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer." Sally added one last comment before walking off to join those by the car. Sherlock leaned inside to examine the large amount of blood all over the front seats and in between. The opened the glove box.

"Before you ask, yes, it's Monkford's blood. The DNA checks out." Lestrade told the man. Sherlock said nothing, filing that information away silently. Inside the glove box he pulled out a business card.

"No body." He mused, straightening back up and placing the card in his coat pocket.

"Not yet." Donovan commented.

"Get a sample sent to the lab." Sherlock informed, looking only at Lestrade. The man nodded while Sherlock turned away onto the next task. Adara watched out of the corner of her eye as Lestrade stared pointedly at Sally, silently ordering her to do as asked. The woman stared back indignantly before stomping away angrily. Adara smirked to herself, pleased that at least Lestrade took them seriously. She followed Sherlock over towards the grieving wife who they had passed on the way in.

"Mrs. Monkford?" Sherlock asked gently. The teary woman looked up at him.

"Yes. Sorry, but I've already spoken with two policemen."

"No, we're not from the police we're…." John began, only to be silenced by Adara who lightly pinched him on the arm out of sight from the others. He frowned at her curiously while Sherlock quickly stuck his hand out to the woman, his face contorting into one of sorrow.

"Sherlock Holmes. Very old friend of your husband's. We, um…..we grew up together." Sherlock lied, fighting back tears as his voice shook. He reached over and tightly latched onto Adara's hand, pulling her up to stand next to him. Covering her mild surprise, she quickly put on a sorrowful façade as well, playing along with Sherlock. John's eyes widened in surprise as Sherlock wrapped and arm around the woman, showing much more PDA than he had ever seen. Mrs. Munkford frowned.

"I'm sorry who? I don't think he ever mentioned you." she countered, sniffling back tears as she released his hand. John hovered to the side, trying to keep a neutral expression as he watched the duo before him put on a stunning performance.

"Oh he must have. I know this one talks about Ian all the time." Adara grinned thickly, her chin wobbling as she let tears seep out of her eyes.

"This is….this is horrible, isn't it?" Sherlock inquired, looking around the scene distraught. John cleared his throat lightly and had to regain his composure as he realized the they had also altered their accents to acclimate to the one Mrs. Monkford had.

"I mean, I just can't believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian, not a care in the world." Sherlock sniffled. Adara grinned tearfully up at him, patting his chest and holding him tighter for comfort. Mrs. Monkford frowned.

"Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months." At that Sherlock sent a look towards Adara and John.

"Who are you?" Mrs. Monkford began to glare at them suspiciously, clearly upset by their lack of knowledge. Sherlock ignored her question, pushing forward more aggressively in the act as he produced real tears.

"Really strange that he hired a car though. Why would he do that. It's a bit odd, isn't it?" Adara wondered aloud, her face scrunching up in confusion. She turned to look at the woman for answers.

"No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's it." The woman corrected once more.

"Oh, well that was Ian. That was Ian all over!" Sherlock chuckled shakily.

"No, it wasn't." Mrs. Monkford insisted sternly. Instantly Sherlock's persona dropped, and he stared at her intently.

"Wasn't it? Interesting." He murmured lowly before whirling away. Adara stepped out of his arms and put more space between them as she walked alongside the man. John quickly chased after them as they ducked under the police tape, leaving a fuming woman behind them.

"Why did you lie to her?" John inquired. Adara offered a handkerchief to Sherlock who used it to wipe away the tears from his face. The only evidence left behind of his supposed meltdown.

"People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you." Adara hummed knowingly with a smirk on her face. Sherlock glanced down at her with a small grin as well.

"Past tense, did you notice?" Sherlock blurted.

"Sorry, what?"

"He referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in rather than contradict like all the other things we said. She agreed that he's already gone." Adara pointed out, brushing her hair out of her face as the wind picked up around them. John blinked, nodding as he began following along.

"Bit premature, they've only just found the car." Sherlock added.

"You think she murdered her husband?" John asked. Sherlock and Adara shared a frown.

"Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make." Sherlock shook his head.

"I see." John nodded. Adara paused and looked over at the man skeptically.

"Do you?"

"No, I don't. What am I seeing?" John sighed, completely lost.

"Fishing. Try fishing!" Donovan shouted as the group walked past. Adara turned to walk backwards.

"Why don't you try celibacy or shagging men who are actually single." She countered, without missing a beat. John coughed out a laugh while Sherlock chuckled lowly. Adara turned back around with a small grin on her face.

"Where now?" John inquired, getting his laughter under control.

"Janus Cars." Sherlock informed, handing him the business card.

"Just found this in the glove compartment."

...

** SIX HOURS **

...

Sherlock, John and Adara stand in the owner of Janus Cars' office. Sherlock remained by the window, overlooking the fleet in the garage.

"Can't see how I can help you all." The man, Mr. Ewert, apologized.

"Mr. Monkford hired a car from you yesterday." John told him as he sat in the chair across from the desk.

"Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself." The man chuckled. Sherlock walked over to the other side of the desk, standing next to the man. He pointed to a car in the lot out the opposite window.

"Is that one?" he inquired. As the owner turned his head towards Sherlock, the taller man glanced at the side of his neck. He quickly readjusted when Mr. Ewert turned back to face John.

"No, they're all Jags. Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?" he grinned teasingly. Sherlock pursed his lips. Adara hid a small grin behind her lips. He wasn't wrong about that.

"But surely you can afford one. A Mazda I mean?" Sherlock inquired.

"Yeah, it's a fair point. But you know how it is. It's like working in a sweet shop. Once you start picking at the liquourice allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?" the owner explained with a grin. Sherlock watched as he began scratching the top of his left arm. Filing it away, Sherlock strolled back to the other side of the desk where John and Adara were.

"But you didn't know Mr. Monkford?" John pushed forward.

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor sod." The man explained.

"Nice holiday, Mr. Ewert?" Sherlock inquired bluntly. The man grunted in confusion.

"You've been away, haven't you?" Sherlock reiterated.

"Oh the..the…" he gestured towards his tanned face.

"No, it's uh, the sunbeds. I'm afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though. Bit of sun." Ewert countered with a strained grin.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?" Sherlock asked instead, randomly changing the subject. Adara blinked in surprise and looked over at him suspiciously. Ewert was completely caught off guard.

"Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change." Sherlock explained, handing the man a bank note.

"I'm gasping." He added. Ewert quickly dug around for his wallet.

"Uh well…." He mumbles, pulling it out and looking in his billfold. As he did Sherlock subtly tilted his head so he could look inside.

"No, sorry." Ewert apologized.

"Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ewert." Sherlock nodded before briskly heading for the door.

"You've been very helpful. Come on, Adara, John." He dismissed, walking out of the office. The two follow after him.

"I..I've got change if you still want to, uh…" John pulled out some bills as they walked back out through the shop. Adara frowned and reached over to smack him on the wrist.

"Don't you dare. He doesn't need it." She hissed sternly, ignoring the man's yelp of pain. Sherlock smirked, glancing at them over his shoulder. He tapped on his upper arm.

"Nicotine patches, remember? I'm doing well." He explained. Adara grinned fondly at him.

"Yes, you are." She hummed in agreement. Sherlock's gaze locked on her own and he sent her a thankful nod.

"So, what was that all about?" John inquired, placing his money back into his billfold.

"I needed to look inside his wallet."

"Why?"

"Mr. Ewert's a liar. And not a very good one." Adara explained, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

...

...

Back at St. Bart's Sherlock had the blood from the car in a petri-dish. Setting it on the desk he reached into a bag, pulling out a small bottle of liquid with a dropper. Bending down over the dish he gently squeezes out a small droplet of liquid from the bottle. Instantly it begins to fizz and bubble. As he straightens up the pink phone rings, the caller ID blocked.

"Hello?"

"The clue's in the name. Janus Cars." The same man from earlier tearfully answers.

"Why would you give me a clue?" Sherlock frowned curiously.

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other, Sherlock."

"Then talk to me in your own voice." Sherlock insisted softly.

"Patience." With nothing more, the line goes dead. Sherlock lowered the phone and stared at the far wall thoughtfully, filing away the details that he had gathered. His head jerks up as Adara walks into the lab with coffees in hand. She frowns, scanning his face.

"Something wrong? Did he call again?" she asked, looking down at the phone he still had in hand. Sherlock blinked down at the object and set it back down on the table. Adara stopped next to him, setting the coffee by his hand.

"Sherlock?" she pressed. The man licked his lips, turning to face her thoughtfully.

"He gave me a hint. The name Janus Cars." He explained. Adara furrowed her brows.

"Why would he give you a clue? He didn't do that last time, and we're still ahead of schedule." She pointed out, glancing over at the clock on the wall. Sherlock hummed before answering.

"Said he was bored." He explained. Adara pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"What exactly did he say? The whole thing?" she pressed.

"He said 'Why does anyone do anything. Because I'm bored. We were made for each other'." He reiterated blandly. Adara's eyes lit up curiously at the last bit.

"He expressly stated that you were made for each other?" she inquired. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I just said that." He grouched. Adara placated him, setting a hand on his forearm.

"I know, sorry. It's just….that indicates something more than boredom. They're becoming obsessed with you in particular. Interesting." She muttered aloud, her brain working in overdrive. It seemed awfully familiar…..but she couldn't make conclusions just yet.

"It would seem so." Sherlock agreed. They both lapsed back into thoughtful silence when the sound of fizzing brought their attention down to the petri-dish on the counter. Picking it up Sherlock holds it at eye level to examine it more closely. He grinned at the results.


	23. Connie Prince

** THREE HOURS **

...

The trio met up with Lestrade in the police compound, standing around Monkford's rented car. John stood to the back with his hands in his coat while Sherlock had the car door open. Adara leaned against one of the columns to the garage, watching the three men.

"How much blood was on the seat, would you say?" Sherlock inquired, looking to Lestrade who was across the vehicle from him.

"How much? About a pint." The man shrugged.

"Not about…Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood's definitely Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen." Sherlock explained, glancing down at the interior of the car.

"Frozen?"

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seats." Sherlock explained further, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Who did?" John inquired curiously, pacing back towards Sherlock.

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name." Adara elaborated, causing the three males to look over at her. John frowned thoughtfully before nodding.

"The god with two faces." he supplied in realization.

"Exactly." Sherlock confirmed as he looked over at Lestrade intently.

"They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of problem…..money troubles, bad marriage, whatever, Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble, financial at a guess, he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out."

"But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the drivers seat…..It's easily forgotten. No more problems if you're presumed dead." Adara finished, staring at the vehicle blankly.

"So where is he?" John asked as Sherlock shut the car door.

"Colombia."

"Colombia?!" Lestrade asked in surprise, walking to meet the trio who were standing by the front of the parking spot.

"You see, Mr. Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian peso note in his wallet. Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly."

"It would be impractical and a bit ridiculous for anyone to wear a shirt on a sunbed." Adara pointed out with a smirk.

"That, plus his arm." Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"His arm?" Lestrade stared at them blankly.

"Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he recently had a booster jab. Hep-B probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Colombia. Mrs. Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars." Sherlock summarized rapidly, unphased as the two men stared at him in surprise.

"M..Mrs. Monkford?" John frowned incredulously. Adara scoffed in amusement.

"She's obviously in on it as well." She told him. Lestrade lowered his head in amazement at how quickly they had put the clues together. Despite spending years with the duo, they still managed to surprise him with how good they truly were.

"Now go arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best." Sherlock suggested smugly.

"We also need to inform the bomber that the case has been completed. Preferably sooner rather than later." Adara added pointedly, looking over at Sherlock with a raised brow. Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"Obviously." He muttered, leading her and John down the alleyway of the lot. As they walked, Sherlock's fist clenched in excitement.

"I am on fire!" he cheered smugly, punching the air. Adara chuckled, her smile wavering as she became lost in thought. Now that they had a free moment, she could go back to trying to piece together the small tidbits she was learning about the bomber's identity. Preferably before Sherlock became to addicted to the game he was setting up.

...

...

Back at the flat, Sherlock quickly typed up a new message on his 'Science of Deduction' message board.

**Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Colombia.**

Seconds after the message was sent another phone call came in on the pink phone, the caller ID still blocked. Sherlock puts it on speaker.

"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me, please." The man on the phone pleads tearfully. As he gives directions to his location, Adara is on the line with Lestrade to send officers to the site. Out of the corner of her eye she spots the wide grin that Sherlock gives John, clearly pleased with himself.

...

...

The next morning John sat opposite Sherlock and Adara at a small café. The man quickly tucked into his breakfast while Sherlock drums his fingers, impatiently staring at the pink phone on the table. Adara eyed his behavior worriedly as she delicately took a bite of her toast. The bomber had gone longer than usual when it came to calling and it was evidently bothering Sherlock…..and not in a way she thought was healthy.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock inquired, looking over at John who was clearly starved for food by the way he was eating.

"Mmm. You realize we've hardly stopped for a breath since this thing started?" he pointed out. Sherlock grunted, not looking away from the phone.

"Don't worry John, I've been making sure he eats a least a minimal amount of food. Can't have the man passing out from lack of nutrition during a case." Adara shot a glance at the man beside her. Sherlock pursed his lips in displeasure but didn't counter her claim. She was very insistent when it came to making sure he was still able to function. He could stand to waste a hint of energy on food if it would allow him to continue doing his job. The trio lapsed back into silence once more.

"Has it occurred to you…"

"Probably."

"No, has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoes. It's all meant for you." John pointed out thoughtfully. Adara snapped her eyes up at the man curiously. Interesting how he was picking up on those details as well. Maybe she didn't give him enough credit. Sherlock smiled lightly.

"Yes, I know." He muttered quietly.

"Don't look to pleased about it." Adara warned lowly. Sherlock cut his eyes to look over at her curiously, caught off guard by her tone. She stared back at him resolutely, silently reminding him of a conversation they shared after the Study in Pink case. He nodded minutely, assuring her that he remembered and would try to keep it in mind.

"Is it him then? Moriarty?" John questioned. Adara smirked.

"You think Moriarty a man?" she inquired. John blinked.

"I guess so, yes. Never occurred to me that it would be a woman." He shrugged. Adara nodded, smiling at the man in approval.

"I would say it's a strong possibility." She hummed, answering his question. Sherlock paused in thought.

"Perhaps." He whispered, noncommittally. The phone on the table halted conversation as a message alert came up on the screen. Sherlock quickly switched it on and listened intently as two short pips followed by the long tone rang out. As per usual a photograph was attached, this one of a middle-aged blonde woman.

"That could be anybody." Sherlock scowled at the device as he flipped it around. Adara stared at the woman thoughtfully.

"Well yes, but I believe this one is easily known." She mused, recognizing the face. Sherlock stared at her in confusion.

"Well I don't know her." he pouted indignantly. Adara pursed her lips, biting back a grin.

"You don't know a lot of pop culture, dear." She reminded gently. Sherlock's expression deadpanned. John rubbed his mouth to cover up his grin before standing.

"Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed." He mused. The taller man turned to look at him curiously.

"How do you mean?"

"Well Mrs. Hudson and I watch far too much telly." John explained before walking over to the counter. Smiling at the woman behind it he picked up the remote to the small television on the wall. Changing the channel, he finds the mystery woman in the middle of her make-over show. Sherlock and Adara turn to watch for a bit as the woman displayed her handiwork, getting applause from the audience. Again, just in time, the phone rings. Adara quickly jerks her head towards the wall of windows by the door, trying to spot something to reveal where this bomber was watching from. Sherlock glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as he answered.

"Hello?"

"This one….is a bit….defective. Sorry." And elderly woman's voice trembled over the speaker.

"She's blind. This is….a funny one." The woman continued. Sherlock's brow raises curiously, glancing up as John rejoins them at the table.

"I'll give you…..twelve hours."

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock questioned.

"I like….to watch you….dance." the woman answered accordingly. She lets gasps of terror before hanging up. Sherlock slowly lowered the phone, shaking his head to indicate he didn't get any answers. Sherlock roughly tossed the phone back into the table before turning back to face the television. Adara turned to watch, but reached over to set her hand on top of Sherlock's. They gaze remained on the television as a news anchor cuts over the audio for the show.

"…continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programs was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead…"

...

...

At St. Bart's Connie Prince's body was laid out on the autopsy table in the morgue. Lestrade led the trio into the room, scanning over the file as they walked.

"Connie Prince, fifty-four. She had one of those make-over shows on the telly. Did you see it?"

"No." Sherlock quickly countered, walking around the body as he examined it.

"Well I figured you didn't. I was talking to Adara." Lestrade huffed, looking over at the woman. She blinked in surprise.

"What just because I'm a woman it means I watch makeover shows?" she questioned, staring at the man intently. Lestrade blushed in embarrassment, quickly backtracking. Adara grinned as he floundered.

"Greg, don't worry about it. I was just teasing. But no, I didn't watch it. I had seen it mentioned in the media here and there." She explained, setting a hand on the detective's shoulder to assure him she wasn't offended. The man visibly relaxed, shooting her a soft glare.

"Anyway, the show was very popular. She was going places." He explained.

"Not anymore." Adara quipped morbidly. Sherlock's lip twitched in amusement.

"So, dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound." Sherlock and John peered down at the deep cut between her thumb and index finger.

"Tetanus bacteria enters the blood stream. Good night Vienna." The man summarized, looking over the body thoughtfully.

"I suppose." John murmured with a frown as he knelt closer to the woman's hand.

"It's not right." Adara commented assuredly. Lestrade looked over at her in confusion.

"It can't be that simple. The bomber has been directing us to cases that have a deeper answer than what's on the surface. Therefore, something is definitely wrong." She elaborated, gesturing to the body on the table. Sherlock hummed in agreement as he pulled out his pocket magnifier. They all watched as he leaned over to more closely examine the woman.

...

** Claw marks on the arm.**

...

** Tiny pinpricks throughout the forehead and nose. **

...

"John?" the man answered with a grunt, looking over at Sherlock curiously.

"The cut on her hand; it's deep. Would have bled a lot, right?" he pointed out. John blinked.

"Yeah." He confirmed.

"But the wound's clean. Very clean and fresh." The taller man continued, straightening up as he thought.

"How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?" he questioned, a small grin moving across his face.

"Eight, ten days." John muttered. Adara and Sherlock stared at John pointedly, waiting for the man to connect the dots. After a moment his eyes lit up.

"The cut was made later." He realized.

"After she was dead?" Lestrade questioned.

"Must have been." Sherlock assured.

"Now the real question is, how did the tetanus enter her system in the first place?" Adara pointed out, glancing around at the men.

"You want to help right?" Sherlock questioned abruptly, whirling around to look at John.

"Of course." He assured, perking up at the possibility of a task.

"Connie Prince's background, family history, everything. Give me data." Sherlock instructed.

"Right." John nodded before striding out of the room. Sherlock stared down at the body for an extra moment before turning to follow his companion out the door as well. However, Lestrade spoke up as the man brushed past him.

"There's something else we haven't thought of." The detective pointed out.

"Is there?" Sherlock asked casually, gesturing for Adara to join him.

"Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?" Lestrade questioned seriously. Sherlock tensed ever so slightly, so much so that only Adara was able to pick it up from being around him for so long. She turned her head to look back at Lestrade while Sherlock remained stationary.

"If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it out?" Lestrade continued.

"Good Samaritan." Sherlock blandly suggested. He tried to escape the questioning by Lestrade was persistent.

"…who press-gangs suicide bombers?" he countered incredulously.

"Bad Samaritan." The taller man dismissed, scrunching his nose nonchalantly. Lestrade clenched his jaw, gaze hardening as he stared back at Sherlock.

"I'm…I'm serious, Sherlock. Listen, I'm cutting you slack here. I'm trusting you, but out there somewhere some poor bastards covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to solve this puzzle. So tell me, what are we dealing with?" Lestrade insisted, clearly worried about who else would become a victim in this game. Adara watched Sherlock intently, waiting for his answer. They had briefly discussed it, but she was afraid he was becoming too enticed to truly see what was at stake. Her heart sank a little as a smile broke across his face.

"Something new." He offered before walking out the door. Adara watched as the man left, leaving her in silence with Lestrade.

"Adara, help me out here." The man practically begged, wanting answers. Adara bit her lip, glancing at the floor thoughtfully.

"Something dangerous." Lestrade frowned at the answer.

"Don't worry Greg, we have all our resources working on this. And as for Sherlock, I'll do my best to keep him on track and get this over with." She told him calmly, not looking back as she followed after Sherlock.

...

** EIGHT HOURS**

...

In 221B the wall behind the sofa was covered with paperwork concerning Connie Prince. However, alongside her information there were also clippings for Carl Powers and Ian Monkford. The cases had been spread out amongst sticky notes and some pieces of string connecting them together when applicable. Adara placed another string to connect some photos together with a pin while Sherlock paced and Lestrade watched nearby.

"Connection, connection, connection. There must be a connection." Sherlock muttered under his breath. He paused as Adara took a step back to scan the large web they had created.

"Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber knew him personally, admitted it. However there hasn't been any mention of a connection to the others. Next, the iPhone was encased with stationary from the Czech Republic. Fine penmanship on the label, either well cultured or connected to those who are." Adara summarized thoughtfully. Sherlock nodded along before ghosting his hand over the photos.

"The first hostage from Cornwall, the second from London, the third from Yorkshire judging by her accent. What's he doing? Working his way around the world? Showing off?" he growled in confusion. Suddenly the pink phone rang from Sherlock's pocket. He pulled it out, reading the caller ID.

...

** Number Blocked**

...

Switching it to speaker the group listened to the old woman over the phone.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the….dots." she sobbed. Adara clenched her jaw and walked over the windows, drawing the shades shut.

"Three hours….boom…boom." the woman gasped, crying even more as she hung up the phone. Sherlock glanced at Adara and Lestrade before switching the phone off.

"He's shortened the time. We hit a nerve." Adara muttered, looking back at the board they made. Sherlock said nothing but placed his hands in a prayer position over his mouth, staring at the wall alongside her. Adara glanced at her wristwatch wondering how John was faring over at the Prince estate with Connie's brother. Looking back at the wall and the few connections they found an idea struck her. She reached over and touched Sherlock's arm to break him out of his mental ramblings. Sherlock blinked and looked down at her curiously.

"I think you need to make a call." She prompted. His brow furrowed deeply.

"I disagree. Who could I possibly call that would be helpful, no one else is more mentally capable then the two people in this room."

"Hey!" Lestrade scoffed in offense. The duo paid him no mind. Instead Adara stared up at the man knowingly.

"I'm not talking about mental capability Sherlock; I'm talking about connections to information." Her eyes remained on his face as a myriad of emotions shot across within seconds. The man finally ended on an indignant scowl as he figured out who she was talking about.

"No."

"Sherlock…."

"You call him, or call one of your own connections." He groused. Lestrade stood behind the couple silently, watching in interest as they squabbled. Adara pursed her lips, taking a step closer.

"There's a reason I can't get in touch with them right now. And you know that so just man up and make the call." She insisted quietly, glancing at Lestrade to make sure he couldn't hear. Sherlock clenched his jaw tightly, looking back at the wall.

"I don't need the help." He insisted. Adara rolled her eyes, her head tilting back slightly in annoyance.

"Oh get over it already. You never hold grudges Sherlock just let this one go please. There are other people at stake here." She pushed irritably. Lestrade's eyebrows shot up at the snarl that escaped from Sherlock's lips.

"I am not holding a grudge. I just would rather not have anything to do with the man." He corrected sternly. Adara sighed reaching over to uncross his arms that had wrapped around his torso.

"Sherlock…you need to make the call. He owes you a favor and it's time to cash in on it." She told him gently, keeping a hand on his forearm. His eyes narrowed.

"And what is the reason he owes me a favor?" Adara bit her lip sheepishly, however a smirk slid across her face.

"Because he felt me up at the gala despite the fact that neither of us were single. He's a sleezeball, but a powerful one." She admitted quietly. Lestrade blinked, trying desperately trying to keep his mouth from falling open. Sherlock scowled.

"I don't need to talk with him." he insisted sternly, obviously wanting nothing to do with whoever it was. Adara closed her eyes before glancing over at the man watching in silent shock.

"Do you mind giving us a moment." she requested. Sherlock stiffened up; apparently having forgotten Lestrade was even in the room. He quickly took his arm back and turned to face the wall. Lestrade blushed, feeling bad about having witnessed something so obviously private. He glanced around the flat, wondering where he would even go. With a sigh Lestrade walked down the stairs, presumably to chat with Mrs. Hudson. When he was out of view Adara turned Sherlock back around, once again prompting him to loosen up. Her hand lifted to cup his cheek and turn it towards her.

"Sherlock, you need to call him. If I did it then he'll ask for favors I will refuse, and we will get nowhere. That woman needs our help and if we don't get a head start now then others are going to be affected." She urged, making sure to maintain eye contact with the man. His jaw clenched.

"Surely there's a better way. Besides Mycroft dislikes when I meddle with political figures." He tried once more. Adara smirked and pushed up onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. Sherlock hesitated before returning the gesture, his shoulders relaxing. After a few seconds she broke away, watching his face closely.

"Better now?" Sherlock's lip quirked; his eyes boring into hers intently.

"I don't think the flood of oxytocin was quite enough to change my mood enough to finish the task." He responded. Adara chuckled warmly.

"If you wanted another kiss, all you have to do is ask." She pointed out with a smirk. His brow rose teasingly.

"I thought that's what I did." He murmured lowly before leaning down to kiss her soundly. Once again, stepping back from one another Adara ran her fingers over his cheek fondly.

"Now you make that phone call and I'll go down to fetch Lestrade." Sherlock watched her leave, a minute grin stretching across his face. It quickly dropped when he pulled out his cell and dialed the number. Might as well get it over and done with.

...

...

Minutes later Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson had joined Adara back in the flat, Sherlock on the opposite end of the room on the phone. He rolled his eyes skyward in annoyance as he listened to the person on the other side.

"Great…..Thank you. Thanks again." He muttered out politely, waiting for the rest of the call to finish. Sherlock strolled closer to the fireplace, leaning against it in tired annoyance. Adara glanced back at him before turning to face the wall with Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson.

"It was a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colors." The older woman lamented thoughtfully. Lestrade frowned, turning towards the woman.

"Colors?"

"You know…what goes best with what. I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me." Mrs. Hudson explained, gesturing to her plum colors. She glanced over at Adara thoughtfully.

"You deary shouldn't wear any pinks or orange, it wouldn't go with your hair." She pointed out with a small grin. Adara turned to look at the woman in mild amusement.

"No worries Mrs. Hudson, I don't own those colors. Never liked them anyway." She assured. Behind them Sherlock had finished his conversation and rejoined the group by the wall. Adara looked up and scanned his face, making sure he wasn't wound up. Sherlock nodded at her gently, assuring her he was fine.

"Who was that?" Lestrade inquired after realizing no one was going to volunteer the information.

"Home Office." Sherlock muttered staring at the wall. Lestrade blanched.

"Home Office?"

"Well, Home Secretary actually." Adara corrected pursing her lips in displeasure.

"Owes me a favor." Sherlock finished. Lestrade stared at the two incredulously but decided not to comment.

"She was a pretty girl, but she messed about with herself too much. They all do these days. They'd do well to follow after your example Adara, still just as pretty as when I met you." the woman chided, grinning over at the young woman fondly.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." She nodded politely.

"People can hardly move their faces. It's silly, isn't it?" the older woman giggled, staring at the photo of Connie Prince on the wall. Lestrade smiled tightly as he listened to her ramble on.

"Did you ever see her show?" Mrs. Hudson asked, looking over at Sherlock curiously.

"Not until now." He answered. Sherlock turned to pick up his laptop and opened it to the video he had been playing previously.

"You look pasty, love!" Ms. Prince chided her brother who sat across from her on the screen.

"Ah, rained every day but one." He joked.

"That's the brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers." Mrs. Hudson commented as she watched over his shoulder.

"So I gather. I've just been having a very fruitful chat with people who loved this show. Fan sites, indispensable for gossip." He mused thoughtfully. On screen Connie was gesturing to her brother's clothes.

"There's really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don't you think girls?" she called with a wide grin. She stood and began to rhythmically clap, the audience soon joining along.

"Off! Off! Off!" As the chant continues Connie walks over and starts beating her hands a bit harshly on her brother's back. The man grimaces before putting on a false smile for the audience.

"Poor dear, I'd be right flustered with all the attention." Mrs. Hudson hummed in sympathy. However, Adara and Sherlock shared a knowing glance, keeping their amusement at bay. It was doubtful Mrs. Hudson would hate being center of attention. Adara cleared her throat and looked over at the woman.

"Mrs. Hudson, would you mind? We need to talk about some sensitive subjects and you know….discretion is important." She gently prodded. Mrs. Hudson waved her hands dismissively.

"Oh of course. I know how this goes, I'll just be on my way then. Good luck to ya." She dismissed while walking out of the flat. Sherlock looked up at Adara thankfully, before closing the laptop and looking back at the display on the wall. After a few minutes of silence his cell rings. Fishing it out of his pocket, Sherlock glances at the caller ID and answers.

"John." He greeted.

"Hi. Look, get over here quickly. I think I'm onto something. You'll need to pick up some stuff first. You got a pen?" John explained over the line.

"I'll remember." Sherlock assured before listening to the list John was giving him.


	24. Lost Round, Solved Case

John sat uncomfortably on the sofa while Kenny Prince primped in front of the mirror above the fireplace. The front door opened and shut, echoing though the house. John set his tea down and popped up.

"That'll be them." He muttered.

"What?" Kenny asked distractedly. To answer his question Raoul, the houseboy, led Sherlock and Adara into the living room. Sherlock walked in with a large bag on his shoulder, attached to a narrow case containing a camera tripod. Adara had a satchel draped across her body, a hairbrush sticking out the side.

"Ah, Mr. Prince isn't it?" Sherlock greeted, quickly walking over to the man.

"Yes."

"Very good to meet you." Adara murmured in greeting. Sherlock held out his hand to shake.

"Yes, thank you." Kenny took the man's hand, not noticing that Sherlock's eyes darted down to look his hands over.

"So sorry to hear about…"

"Yes, yes, very kind." Kenny cut him off with a strained grin. Adara rose her brow curiously but said nothing.

"Shall we uh…" John prompted. Taking his que, Sherlock set his bag on the sofa and began rummaging through it. Kenny turned back to the mirror, allowing Adara to fiddle with his hair as she was the 'makeup artist'. She kept the man distracted while Sherlock and John had a chat by the sofa.

"You were right. The bacteria got into her another way." John whispered intently. Sherlock smirked.

"Oh yes?" he hummed with interest, pulling out a large professional camera.

"Yes."

"Right. We all set?" Kenny asked, turning towards the men as Adara stepped away.

"Um, yes." John nodded. He sent a look to Sherlock who turned around with a nod. John jerked his head towards the mantle, directing Kenny.

"Can you…." Kenny nodded and stepped closer to the mantle, leaning his arm on it. As the man posed, Sherlock came closer with his camera in hand, carelessly flashing photos without really looking. Kenny holds his position, only leaning back slightly as Sherlock starts leaning in closer.

"Not too close. I'm raw from crying." Kenny warned uncomfortably. A meow by Adara's feet caught their attention. The woman looked down to see an Egyptian Sphinx rubbing against her legs. She grinned, leaning down to pick up the bald cat. It purred contently as she stroked it.

"Who's this?" she asked curiously. Sherlock glanced down at the animal in her arms.

"Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess." Kenny explained. Adara nodded before setting the cat back down.

"How nice. Was she Connie's?" Sherlock inquired, feigning interest.

"Yes." John tried to pick up the cat, but Kenny beat him to it.

"Little present from yours truly." Mr. Prince added. John clenched his jaw in frustration, looking between the pet and his partners pointedly. Adara blinked in surprise, glancing back at the cat with a small frown. What was so important about it?

"Sherlock? Uh, light reading?" John requested.

"Oh, um.." Sherlock muttered lifting the flashgun closer to Kenny. When the bright light went off it momentarily blinded the now thoroughly confused man.

"2.8" he answered.

"Bloody hell. What do you think you're playing at?!" Kenny snapped, his eyes blinking heavily against the light. While he was distracted John reached out and rubbed his fingers over the cat's front paw. Meanwhile Sherlock continued to snap photos, flashing rapidly. Adara stood behind him, blinking hard as all the shiny metal and mirrors reflected the flash throughout the room.

"Sorry." He muttered half-hearted while Kenny clenches his eyes shut. John sniffed his fingers curiously, taking note of what was on the cat's claws.

"You're like the three bloody stooges. What's going on?" Kenny stuttered.

"Actually, I think we've got what we came for. Excuse us." John quickly dismissed, already heading towards the door in a very Sherlock fashion. Adara smirked as she watched John's shoulders lift with pride as he strode out of the house.

"What?" Mr. Prince frowned in confusion.

"Sherlock." John called. The man blinked in confusion, spinning around as John left.

"What?"

"We've got deadlines." John insisted, grabbing the camera case from the sofa and heading for the door. Adara and Sherlock quickly followed after him.

"But you've not taken anything!" Kenny shouted after them, severely confused. Ignoring his calls, the trio let themselves out of the house. John chuckled in delight as they head down the driveway towards the main road of the fancy suburb.

"Yes! Ohh, yes!" John laughed with a broad grin. Sherlock grinned wryly.

"You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat." He pointed out. Instantly, John's mood dimmed.

"What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. It's paws stink of disinfectant." John insisted assuredly. Sherlock shook his head, the grin never leaving his face. Adara smirked at the thought.

"It's not a horrible idea, John. Just not applicable in this situation." Adara corrected gently.

"No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have…"

"I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and clever to be the brother." Sherlock interrupted. John grinned, still shaking his head.

"He murdered his sister for money."

"Did he?" Sherlock questioned boredly. John paused, looking up at the man as his assuredness started to dim.

"Didn't he?"

"Nope. It was revenge." The taller man answered, looking ahead as they walked down the street.

"Revenge? Who wanted revenge?" John sputtered.

"Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally, he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle so…"

"Gossip websites….a surprisingly great source for information." Adara murmured, cutting him off. John stopped, stepping in front of the other two with his hand up.

"No, wait, wait. Wait a second." He insisted, trying to wrap his brain around the whole thing. Adara and Sherlock paused accordingly.

"What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?" he asked.

"Raoul keeps an immaculate house. Just walking through the door, you could see the kitchen was scrubbed within an inch of its life. The whole house smells of disinfectant. So much so that even you smell like it now. The cat easily picked it up from the house as well. It just doesn't factor in here." Adara explained, raising a brow as she glanced at his jacket. John pulled up his jacket and sniffed it, realizing she was right.

"Raoul's internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here." Sherlock added, walking the rest of the way to the main road to flag down a car. John sighed in exasperation, disappointed that he hadn't cracked the case like he thought he had. His eyes glared holes into the back of Sherlock's head. Adara patted the man consolingly on the shoulder.

"It was a very good idea, John. Don't discredit yourself so quickly. It just didn't pan out this time around, but there's always next time." She grinned. John scrunched up his face pensively.

"I'm not quite sure how I feel about that." He muttered. How was he supposed to feel? He was grateful to Adara for the encouragement but felt wrong that he almost anticipated the next case so he could prove himself.

...

** ONE HOUR**

...

Sherlock strode into Scotland Yard, wielding a large portfolio in his hand. Adara and John trailed behind.

"Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince, it was botulinum toxin." He explained, setting the folder on the desk. where Lestrade was consulting with a coworker. The inspector reached for the papers as Sherlock leaned in to whisper.

"We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bombers repeated himself." He muttered. John listened in surprise as he followed Adara, Sherlock, and Lestrade to a quiet corner.

"So, how'd he do it?" Lestrade questioned.

"Botox injection." Adara shrugged.

"Botox?"

"Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases." He pointed to the folder in Lestrade's hand.

"He's been bulk ordering Botox for months." John stared at Sherlock, his face slowly becoming distorted with anger. He had made that call hours ago….so why were they bringing this up now.

"Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose." Adara added, glancing at John out of the corner of her eye. Sherlock remained oblivious. Lestrade worked his jaw, staring at the duo thoughtfully.

"You sure about this?" he inquired.

"I'm sure." The answer was satisfactory enough. Lestrade nodded and jerked his head.

"All right, my office." He instructed the group, heading that direction. Before they could leave, John held back Sherlock and Adara.

"Hey, how long?" he asked curiously.

"What?" Sherlock blinked.

"How long have you known?" John reiterated. Adara glanced down at the floor briefly while Sherlock, pursed his lips in thought. Only one of them understood where John was going with this.

"Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake." Sherlock easily answered. He tried to leave once more but John pressed on, stepping in his way.

"No, but….the hostage….the old woman. She's been there all this time." He insisted heatedly. Sherlock steeled his gaze as he leaned in closer to John.

"I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him!" whirling away from the conversation, Sherlock followed after Lestrade. John clenched his jaws tightly and looked over at the woman lingering by the wall.

"And you just let him do this?" he hissed, unsure how to feel. Adara stared at him passively.

"I encouraged it." John's eyes widened in surprise.

"You…wh…."

"John, things like this aren't black and white. We're dealing with professionals….very evil professionals. That's not something you can take lightly. Sometimes you have to step on some toes to get things done. Not everyone agrees with it, and not everyone likes it. But it's what needs to be done to push towards taking down people like this." she told him sternly, her face bare of emotion. John blinked thoughtfully as he took in the information. He said nothing as she stared him down. With a small nod of her head, realizing he needed time to process, Adara walked off to join the others in the office.

Inside, Sherlock quickly pulled up his website on the laptop with the pink phone on the desk next to him. They watched as he typed into the message box on the Science of Deduction website.

**Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.**

The instant the message was sent, the pink phone began to ring. Sherlock quickly picked it up and held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Help me." The woman pleaded.

"Tell us where you are. Address." Sherlock calmly and clearly instructed.

"He was so….his voice….." the woman began to mutter in hysterics. Adara's eyes widened in alarm as she was standing next to him. She quickly yanked the phone out of his hand.

"No, no, no, no. Say nothing about him. Stop talking about him. Say nothing." She insisted urgently. Sherlock watched her intently, leaning in closer to hear.

"He sounded so….soft…." a deafening blast rand out just before the line went dead. Adara clenched her eyes shut in disappointment as Sherlock frowned. He gently took it out of her hand.

"Hello?" he asked, fruitlessly. The dial tone on the other line told him what had happened.

"Sherlock? Adara?" Lestrade inquired worriedly as he watched their expressions.

"What's happening?" John chimed in. Sherlock stared ahead and lowered the phone silently. He bit his lip tensely, cluing the others into how bad the situation truly was. Adara looked over at them.

"Look for another gas leak explosion." She murmured quietly. Lestrade straightened up and sighed despondently. John was at a loss of what to do. Looking down at the man in the chair who was still staring ahead, John reached out and put a comforting hand atop the one that Adara had laid on Sherlock's shoulder.

...

...

The next morning in the flat, John and Sherlock sat in their designated chairs, watching the news coverage of the 'gas explosion'. Sherlock stared ahead at the television while John's chair was just in front, so he had to turn his body in order to watch. **12 dead** read across the bottom of the television screen as the camera pans over a boarded up section of high rise flats that had been blown up last night. Adara tinkers in the kitchen, keeping herself busy as she prepares some tea. The news anchor's voice drones throughout the quiet apartment.

"The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people….."

"A whole block of flats." John commented over his shoulder at Sherlock.

"…is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company…"

"He certainly gets about." John muttered, pursing his lips.

"Well, obviously I lost that round. Although technically I did solve the case." Sherlock pointed out in annoyance, picking up the remote to mute the television. John slowly turned his head to stare at the man incredulously. Adara walked in, cup of tea in hand as she perched herself on the arm of Sherlock's chair. She eyed him carefully, taking in the slightest tells of his expression to get a read on how he was feeling about all this. Sherlock stared thoughtfully into the distance, ignoring the looks he was getting from the two of them.

"He killed the old lady because she started to describe him." he mused.

"He put himself in the line of fire this time, and it backfired on him." Adara added. John tilted his head in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"It seems that typically he stays above it all. He masterminds and organizes everything but never brings himself down to the level where he had direct contact with anyone. Talking directly to someone rather than sending a text was risky and it worked against him. Let someone know than he was comfortable with." She explained. John gaped at the two of them.

"What….like the Connie Prince murder…he, he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?" As John voiced his theory aloud, Sherlock's blank expression morphed into one of admiration.

"Novel." Adara glanced down at him, pursing her lips. She had to agree that it was a brilliant idea, one that she hadn't heard of before. However, she knew the line between marveling the genius and having a healthy respect of how dangerous this person could be. This mastermind's tendrils stretched further than she originally anticipated. Therefore, they needed to proceed with caution, rather than provoke him like she was sure Sherlock would do. The man was in some ways like a toddler; always wanting to go after the new shiny thing.

"Huh." John muttered in disbelief, turning to look back at the TV which had switched to a new story. He jerked a finger towards the screen where Raoul de Santos was being led away while interviewers and photographers went wild around him. Sherlock stared down at the pink phone, put off by the silence.

"Taking his time this time." He whispered. Adara scowled lightly, glancing down at the offending thing in his hand.

"Time to rethink his strategy. He deviated once; doubtful he is willing to try again." She hummed.

"Anything on the Carl Powers case?" John inquired.

"Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection." Sherlock told him, fiddling with his fingers as his eyes narrowed.

"Maybe the killer was older than Carl?" John suggested.

"The thought had occurred."

"We're looking into other avenues of contact." Adara assured the man, sharing a glance with Sherlock. John nodded.

"So, why's he doing this then. Playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?" the man pressed, distressed with this whole ordeal. Sherlock templed his fingertips together, smiling behind them.

"I think he wants to be distracted." John chuckled humorlessly, shooting out of his chair.

"I hope you'll be very happy together." He grumbled, pacing away. Sherlock furrowed his brow in offense.

"John." Adara mildly scolded, but she was ignored.

"Sorry what?" the man in the chair next to her asked. John whipped around furiously.

"There are lives at stake, Sherlock. Actual human lives…just….just so I know, do you care about that at all?" he snarled accusingly. Sherlock's expression steeled, his sharp change of demeanor evident only to Adara who sat quietly, watching the exchange with interest.

"Will caring about them help save them?" Sherlock asked blankly.

"Nope."

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."

"And you find that easy, do you?"

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?" Sherlock queried. John smiled bitterly.

"No. No." the two stare at one another silently. Adara sighed and stood up from the chair, letting the two of them talk it out this time. She could advocate for Sherlock all she wanted, but John had to understand the thought process for himself if he was going to continue to tolerate the man. Sherlock eyed John for a moment before his jaw unclenched as he realized where they were at.

"I've disappointed you." Sherlock commented knowingly. John's smile turned angry as he threw his arm at him in mock pride.

"That's good….that's a good deduction, yeah."

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." Sherlock warned him insistently. The room fell back into silence once more. This time it was broken up by the ringing of the pink phone.

"Excellent." Sherlock muttered with interest, glad to be distracted once more. After the one pip, a photo appears. A river bank. Adara walked back to look over his shoulder at the photo.

"View of the Thames. South Bank. Somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo." she listed off, scrunching her eyes as she thought back to that image in her mind. Sherlock beamed at her before reaching into his suit jacket to pull out his personal phone.

"John, you check the papers; I'll look online…." He trailed off as he noticed that John was still standing behind his chair with his hands braced on the back, head down.

"Oh, you're angry with me so you won't help." Sherlock muttered sourly. John shrugged, his lips pulled thin.

"Not much a cop, this caring lark." Sherlock snipped. Adara rolled her eyes at both their pettiness and walked over to grab John by the arm.

"I need to chat with you." she muttered, dragging the man after her. John followed rather reluctantly. They stepped into the kitchen and shut the sliding doors behind them. Adara knew that while Sherlock was looking up items on his phone, he would be too distracted to listen in. She whirled around to frown at John.

"I do hope you're not going to lecture me on how I'm wrong. I am not the one in the wrong here." John insisted tetchily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"In a way I would agree with you, but you have to realize that Sherlock also has a very valid point." She informed calmly. John opened his mouth to argue but went silent as she held her hand up.

"You are to listen now. If you truly want to continue living and working with Sherlock, you have got to start listening and actually taking what he says into consideration. You are not going to change him into the civil servant that you are. He just isn't wired that way." she told him sternly. John frowned thoughtfully, taking in her advice as she continued.

"Sherlock acts. He doesn't blather about emotions involved with the human condition and doesn't let his heart get in the way of his mind. Instead he shows he cares by busting his butt to solve the methods behind the madness and truly put these victims to rest. While you and I can use emotions to drive us, they can also be a hindrance. Even you can agree that sometimes you have to put your emotions aside and do the job. That's what Sherlock does naturally. Instead of arguing and trying to make him see your side, try to understand his." John pursed his lips, nodding as he took in a calming breath.

"How do you do it? How have you put up with that…..that…"

"Egotistical ass?" John chuckled at her description.

"I wouldn't have said that exactly, but yes. How do you not blow up all the time?" he inquired tiredly. Adara smiled.

"Practice. Over the years I have comfortably fell into my role as mediator for Sherlock and the rest of the human race. It just takes time to really understand him. And even now there's some things he does that still surprise me. That and he's definitely not the worst person I've ever met. He's actually much more remarkable than most." She explained fondly. John quirked his brow suspiciously, still not quite convinced about that, but he wasn't about to contradict her.

"Now are you going to let him keep you from helping other people or are you going to go back in there and be of use to this case?" Adara inquired with a knowing smirk. John rolled his eyes but walked towards the door anyway. With a smile she followed after him, picking up her cell while John began sifting through papers on the coffee table. Sherlock, oblivious to the whole conversation, was still researching on his phone.

"Archway suicide." John mumbled, loud enough for Sherlock to hear.

"Ten a penny." Sherlock dismissed.

"Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington." No response.

"Ah, man found on train line. Andrew West." John continued, looking up and shooting Sherlock a pointed stare. Sherlock snarled in exasperation, shooting a scathing glance at the man. Adara chuckled, watching the tall man get more and more frustrated with the lack of case.

"Maybe it's brand new." She suggested, already holding her cell and waiting patiently for the number to go through. Sherlock huffed, setting his phone down as he watched her intently. He was practically buzzing in anticipation. Adara grinned as the other line picked up.

"Hello Greg, we got another call. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?" she inquired. They all waited in silence while the man gave his answer.

"Well I would suggest getting a team out there right away. We will meet you there." As the call ended Sherlock had already thrown his coat on and was heading towards the door.

"Fantastic!" he beamed, swooping in to press a kiss to her cheek as he passed. Adara snickered in amusement as she followed him out. A glance back told her that John wasn't far behind.


	25. Assassins and Fakes

Down on the south bank of the Thames, a body had washed up on the rocky shore. Shortly after the forensics team got there Sherlock, Adara, and John joined them. Sherlock pulled on a pair of latex gloves as he walks towards Lestrade who was waiting beside the body.

"Do you reckon this is connected then? The bomber?" Lestrade inquired, looking up at the group that was approaching.

"Must be. Odd, though…he hasn't been in touch." Sherlock almost pouted as he held up the pink phone to double check that he hadn't missed anything. Adara pursed her lips.

"One method of variation didn't work. Perhaps he is testing out another." She pointed out. Sherlock glanced at her thoughtfully.

"But we must assume that some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah?" Lestrade mused with a frown.

"Yes." Sherlock answered shortly. He stepped back to look at the man's body, which had been rolled onto his back on a plastic sheet. Sherlock's head tilted back and forth as he looked at the body from a distance.

"Any ideas?" Greg probed, watching him as he folded his hands behind his back.

"Seven….so far." Sherlock admitted, tilting his head.

"Four." Adara countered thoughtfully. Sherlock did a double take, staring at her speculatively. The woman shrugged, grinning back at him in amusement. His face scrunched up in a pout but brushed past her winning quip. Instead he walked closer to the body.

"Seven?! How did you get four?" Lestrade sputtered, looking between the two of them in bafflement. They had just gotten here. Ignoring the man's surprise Sherlock walked closer to the body before squatting down, picking his coattails up so they wouldn't get dirty. His eyes scanned over the man's face, using his magnifier to get a better look. John, Lestrade and Adara remained silent as the man shuffled around, examining the body.

Moving down Sherlock spotted the ripped shirt pocket, picking up the edge and moving it back and forth to look for anything on it. Nothing of consequence was showing outwardly on the man's shirt and trousers so he moved down to the feet. Resituating his squatting position Sherlock used the magnifier to examine the man's heels after removing the sock. Standing up he looks over to John and jerks his head toward the body, silently implying for him to examine the corpse as well. However, John looked over to Lestrade for permission who held out a hand in the 'be my guest' gesture. John squatted beside the body and reached out to take a hold of the man's wrist while Sherlock stepped away to scan his phone. Adara walked over to join him, tugging on his bicep to lead him further away so they wouldn't be heard.

"You recognize something?" he inquired, having taken note of her change in demeanor while looking the scene over.

"Yes, but I want to make sure he's not in prison. It could be a copycat or a random coincidence." She hummed. Sherlock frowned, knowing that neither of those were likely. However, he allowed her to double check. Both went to work, searching information on their cells. Sherlock stood to the side while Adara stepped closer to the scene. Meanwhile, John was conversing with Lestrade about the man lying on the beach.

"He's been dead about twenty-four hours, maybe a bit longer. Did he drown?" John inquired, looking up at the inspector.

"Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated." Adara glanced up, filing that information away as she pocketed her phone.

"Yes, I'd agree." John nodded.

"There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises here and here." He pointed out, glancing at Adara out of the corner of his eye. She was staring down at the corpse as John gestured to the markings dotting the face.

"They're fingertips." Adara murmured, walking back over towards Sherlock. She looks over his shoulder at what he had pulled up.

"Check Missing Persons." She instructs, spotting one of the options on his search. Sherlock nods absently, following her guidance. John stands back up.

"In his late thirties, I'd say. Not in the best condition." He pointed out, finished with his check over.

"He's been in the river a long while. The water's destroyed most of the data." Sherlock added, however his lips quirked up in a grin.

"But I'll tell you one thing; that lost Vermeer painting's a fake." He announced smugly. Lestrade squinted his eyes in confusion. Where had that come from?

"What?"

"We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates…." Lestrade quickly held a hand up to stop Sherlock's rapid paced instructions.

"Wait-wait-wait. What painting? What are you….what are you on about?" he sputtered.

"It's all over the place. Haven't you seen the posters? Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago. Now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds." Sherlock elaborated pointedly.

"Okay. So what has that got to do with the stiff?" Lestrade inquired, lost as to where this conversation had gone. Sherlock grinned, his eyes flashing in delight as he glanced over at Adara. She took her cue.

"It has everything to do with it. Have you heard of the Golem?" she inquired seriously.

"Golem?" Lestrade shook his head, not recognizing the name.

"It's a horror story isn't it? What are you saying?" John inquired curiously.

"Jewish folk story. A gigantic man made of clay." Sherlock clarified before Adara answered John's question.

"It's also the name of an assassin. His real name is Oskar Dzundza and he's one of the deadliest assassins in the world." Adara explained seriously. Both Lestrade and John stared at her curiously.

"So Golum is the code name of the deadliest assassin?" John asked curiously. Adara scoffed, waving her hands dismissively.

"I said one of the deadliest. Don't give him more credit than deserved." She corrected, earning even more bewildered looks.

"And you're familiar with his work?" John continued.

"Yes. This is his trademark style." Adara nodded, gesturing down to the body.

"Wh….how do you know…"

"So, this is a hit?" Lestrade realized in surprise, talking over top of John.

"Definitely. The Golem's style is very clean. He squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands." Adara told him, holding her hand above the corpse's face as an illustration. Lestrade's eyes widened curiously, glancing between her and the body.

"Any reason you are so familiar with international hit men?" John inquired. Sherlock and Adara shared a look. She shrugged.

"I have a very….particular interest….you could say in international affairs. Knowing the villains of the world is part of that interest." John narrowed his eyes skeptically but didn't push the matter.

"But what has this gotta do with that painting? I don't see….." Sherlock huffed in exasperation, cutting off Lestrade.

"You do see, you just don't observe." He lamented.

"All right, all right, girls, calm down." John placated in annoyance. Adara snorted a laugh at the indignant expressions on the two men's faces.

"Sherlock? Do you wanna take us through it?" John requested politely. Adara beamed proudly, impressed with how he was handling things. John returned the gesture. In all honesty he was taking a page out of her book. It worked well enough when she did it. Sherlock did not look as impressed as he pursed his lips, eyeing John in mild disdain. He took a step back before beginning, pointing at the corresponding spots as he explained.

"What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much, just the shirt and trousers. They're pretty formal, maybe he was going out for the night, but the trousers are heavy duty. Polyester, nasty, same as the shirt, cheap. They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard issue uniform. Dressed for work then. What kind of work? There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie."

"Tube driver?" Lestrade suggested. Sherlock shot the man a demeaning look, as if he couldn't believe Lestrade had even suggested it.

"Security guard?" John corrected, looking over the uniform.

"More likely. That'll be borne out by his backside."

"Backside?" Lestrade sputtered. Adara glanced up at the man in amusement.

"Yes Greg, his backside. One needs to examine everything when working a case. The corpse is no different." She pointed out with a small grin. Lestrade cleared his throat, fighting back a blush.

"It's flabby. You'd think that he'd led a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard's looking good. And the watch helps too. The alarm shows he did regular night shifts." Sherlock explained.

"Why regular? Maybe he just set the alarm like that the night before he died." Lestrade pointed out. Sherlock shook his head in dismissal.

"No, no, no. The buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long long time ago. His routine never varied…."

"But there's something else going on here." Adara cut in, taking over the conversation. Sherlock paused and waited for her to continue, knowing that high level hits were more her area of expertise. Not that either Lestrade or John would know that.

"The killer must have been interrupted, otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely to leave no evidence of identity behind. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt that he tore off. That means that the dead man worked somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution." She pointed out.

"I found this in his trouser pockets." Sherlock added, pulling out a wad of paper from his own.

"Sodden by the river but still recognizably…"

"Tickets?" John answered, peering closely at the wet ball. Sherlock nodded.

"Ticket stubs. He worked in a museum or gallery. Did a quick check….the Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants as missing." Sherlock gestured down to the body on the ground.

"Alex Woodbridge. Tonight they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference: the dead man knew something about it. Something that would stop the owner from getting paid thirty million pounds. The picture's a fake." He finished assuredly.

"Fantastic" John gushed in admiration. Sherlock glanced at him.

"Meretricious." He shrugged.

"And a Happy New Year." Lestrade quipped. The trio throw him a look, causing the man to grin sheepishly. John shook his head, looking back down at the body.

"Poor sod." He muttered.

"I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character." Lestrade mused. Adara shook her head.

"That's pointless. You'd never find him. He's too smart to mingle with anyone remotely associated with the police." She paused, sharing a look with Sherlock who nodded.

"However, we know someone who can find him." she informed.

"Who?" Lestrade asked curiously. Sherlock beamed.

"Me." He announced, turning to walk away with a flourish. Adara and John paused before following after.

"That wasn't exactly who I had in mind, but we'll see how he does." She whispered to John with an amused grin. John chuckled, knowing how big the man's ego was. It didn't surprise him at all that Sherlock would assume she was talking about himself.

"You know someone that can do better than Sherlock?" he inquired. Adara shrugged.

"I know someone who's better connected to the dark network. But let's not tell Sherlock I have other options. He would be very cross." She insisted with a teasing grin. John barked out a laugh; however, it dimmed slightly as he thought about what she said. Who could she possibly know with those kinds of connections?

...

...

In the taxi, Sherlock stared down at the pink phone in frustration.

"Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern, why?" he lamented quietly, brows furrowing in deep thought.

"It's another test to throw you off." Adara suggested. Both men turned to look at her, silently prompting her to continue.

"You've proven that you can handle his typical methods, finishing his puzzles hours before they're due. But now that you have grown comfortable, it's time to switch things up. Remaining the same for too long, especially once someone has picked up the pattern, is dangerous for his anonymity." She explained. Sherlock pursed his lips, nodding along as he listened. After a beat of silence he leaned forward to talk with the cabbie.

"Waterloo bridge." He requested, pocketing the pink phone. John blinked in confusion.

"Where now, the gallery?" he inquired.

"In a bit." Sherlock assured. Adara watched as Sherlock pulled out a small black notebook and pen from his deep coat pocket.

"The Hickman's contemporary art, isn't it? Why have the got a hold of an old master?" John pointed out, looking over at the duo.

"I don't know. It's dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data." Sherlock responded thoughtfully, not looking away from the note he was writing. John leaned over and watched silently as Sherlock ripped out the page from his little book and stealthily wrapped it in some money that Adara had handed him.

"It's a bit much isn't it?" Sherlock mumbled, eyeing the pound that she had offered. Adara hummed.

"I don't think so. It's very valuable information you're looking for." She countered. With a nod Sherlock pocketed the notes. They sat in silence for another minute, Sherlock peering out the window intently. As they passed by the park, Adara leaned forward.

"Stop. Here please." She requested, prompting their driver to stop next to the fenceline.

"Wait here please, we'll just be a moment." Sherlock added, stepping out of the cab and hopping the iron fence in one leap.

"Sherlock…..Adara what…." John sputtered watching the woman follow his lead without second thought. John rolled his eyes and slipped over the fence less gracefully than the other two. He jogged to catch up with the duo who were practically power walking through the park. Sherlock led them onto a balcony just below the bridge. Up top on one of the benches was a homeless young woman.

"Change, any change." She requested, watching them approach.

"What for?"

"Cup of tea, of course." The woman responded. Sherlock pulled out the money hiding the note and handed it to her.

"Here you go, a 50." He explained. The woman grinned, taking it from him. With a nod Sherlock whipped back around, heading for the stairs where Adara had waited. John, having gotten caught in the middle of the platform, stared at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he questioned. Sherlock looked at the man over his shoulder, glancing to where John had gestured back towards the woman.

"Investing." Was the answer given. John glanced back in confusion, but remained silent as he followed Sherlock and Adara back to the cab.

"Now we go back to the gallery…." Sherlock paused, glancing back at John.

"Have you got any cash?" he inquired. John glared at him.

"Sorry John. I've told him he should carry more on his person. I just gave him all of mine." Adara shrugged sheepishly. John just shook his head in exasperation, hopping into the seat and shutting the door behind him.

...

...

After riding across town, the group arrived at the gallery. Sherlock and Adara hopped out and John began to follow them but Sherlock held his hand out.

"No, I need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address." He instructed, glancing at the street around them. John frowned but nodded in understanding.

"Ok." He agreed, shutting the door. As the cab drove away, Sherlock placed a hand on Adara's back to usher her towards the side of the Hickman Gallery. Adara scanned the walls as they walked down the ally adjacent to the brick building.

"So, what exactly is our purpose in being here?" she questioned, following along where Sherlock was leading her.

"I need to get inside and look at the painting. Figure out why it's a fake." He explained lowly, skirting around a group of tourists.

"And did you find a way in?" she mused with a small grin. Sherlock grunted as they turned the corner, heading around the back.

"That is why I brought you along. Don't play coy." He scolded, raising a brow. The duo walked around the building, Adara taking note of every entrance, window, and video cameras. Having circled the building, Adara and Sherlock made their way back around to where they started before ducking into an alcove.

"Alright, there's a staff entrance around back, and an open window on the third level of the east side. Front entrance isn't an option. The cameras are well placed but have exposed wires that are easy to manipulate. So what entrance works for you and what you have planned?" she inquired, crossing her arms and looking up at him curiously. Sherlock hummed thoughtfully.

"I believe the staff entrance will be to my liking." He decided, nodding assuredly. Adara grinned.

"How much time do you need?" he inquired.

"About 8 minutes."

"I need it done in 5." Adara threw her arms out in exasperation.

"Then why did you ask?" Sherlock smirked.

"Because I find it mildly entertaining when you are flustered. That and you need the practice." He informed her matter of factly. Adara blinked at him, shaking her head fondly.

"Hmmm. An endearing compliment and an insult all in one go. The definition of the Sherlock charm." She snickered. Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning to leave their secluded spot.

"Don't be ridiculous. Having my own charm would indicate that I give out compliments to just anyone. I don't. Now let's get to it. We don't have time to spare." He ordered, knowing she was close behind him.

...

...

Inside the empty gallery the owner walked past the new exhibit, pausing as she saw a security guard standing in front of the painting.

"Don't you have something to do?" she questioned sharply.

"Just admiring the view." The man hummed, his baritone voice echoing off the walls.

"Yes, lovely. Now get back to work, we open tonight." She snipped sternly, her lips pursing in annoyance. Sherlock turned to look at her curiously.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he questioned, walking over towards her.

"What?"

"That the painting's a fake." The woman's face dropped, her eyes narrowing.

"What?" she asked again, her voice lowering in warning.

"It's a fake. It has to be. It's the only possible explanation." Sherlock continued, never stopping his strike as he approached her.

"You are in charge, aren't you, Miss Wenceslas?"

"Who are you?" she questioned, not backing down as Sherlock stood practically nose to nose with the woman.

"Alex Woodbridge knew that the painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?" Sherlock questioned instead.

"Golem? What the hell are you talking about?" she scoffed.

"Are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?" Sherlock fired off, his eyes watching her reactions carefully.

"It's not a fake."

"It is a fake. I don't know why but there's something wrong with it. There has to be." Sherlock muttered aloud. It was driving him mad that he couldn't figure out why.

"What the hell are you on about? You know I could have you sacked on the spot." Ms. Wenceslas warned.

"Not a problem." Sherlock assured airily.

"No?"

"No, I don't work here you see. I just pooped in to give you a bit of friendly advice." She paused, her glare morphing into nervous curiosity.

"How did you get in?" she asked.

"Please." Sherlock scoffed. As if he would give anything like that away.

"I want to know." She insisted.

"The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight." He hummed, walking away from her while slipping off his hat.

"Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes." He answered, still walking away. Sherlock set the hat atop one of the poles holding the velvet ropes.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" she sneered.

"You should be." A new voice hummed from where she stood by the loading door. Ms. Wenceslas jumped, her eyes widening at the intruder. Sherlock grinned deviously, slinging his jacket across the floor as he walked towards the blonde.

"Have a nice day." He waved back at the woman before holding the door open for Adara who shot a smirk at the nervous woman before slipping out the door. In the silence Ms. Wenceslas walked to stand in front of the painting, staring at it intently.


	26. Van Buren Supernova

**I hadn't realized the first version of this chapter was all wonky and unreadable. Sorry about that. Let's try again...**

...

John made his way back to Baker Street having taken a detour to visit Westie's fiancé after checking out Alex Woodbridge's apartment. About the time that the taxi pulls up to the flat, Sherlock and Adara step out to meet him.

"Alex Woodbridge didn't know anything special about art." John explained, stepping out of the vehicle.

"And?" Sherlock prompted. John furrowed his brow.

"And….." he trailed off, unsure of what else to add. Sherlock began walking backwards, after spotting the person he wanted to see just down the street. Adara trailed after him, walking forward. John watched them, curious as to where they were in a rush to.

"Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?" Sherlock continued, glancing over his shoulder every so often.

"No, give us a chance! He was an amateur astronomer." John sputtered.

"Hold that cab." Sherlock instructed, gesturing to the cab that John had recently vacated. Adara whistled sharply, grabbing the cabbie's attention before he could drive away. With a nod of thanks John trotted off towards the vehicle and waited for the other two. As he did so, Sherlock and Adara walked over to the homeless woman they had met earlier.

"Spare change, sir?" she asked.

"Don't mind if I do." Sherlock answered. The woman handed him a piece of paper with the words **VAUXHALL ARCHES** on it. Adara smiled thankfully before directing Sherlock back to the cab.

"Fortunately, I haven't been idle." Sherlock announced smugly as he slipped into the cab. Adara rolled her eyes.

"Yes, _you_ have been busy." She quipped pointedly. Sherlock bristled in offense but didn't argue with her. John smirked quietly as he hopped in behind the couple, shutting the car door.

...

...

Over in Vauxhall, the cab parked just at the end of the street. John, Sherlock, and Adara piled out of the vehicle and made their way down the dark alleyway under the arches. The trio buttoned up their coats to keep out the chill in the air. Sherlock glanced up at the stars that were now visible through the gaps under the bridge.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he mused. John glanced up as well before looking over at the man curiously.

"I thought you didn't care about things like that?" he pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it." Sherlock retorted flatly. Adara smiled briefly. Sherlock was a very contradictory person much of the time. He put on a façade for others but once he began to trust you there would be a whole other layer to him that threw people off. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about him. The three of them made their way under the arches, their footsteps echoing off the cement.

"Listen. Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answerphone at his flat, a Professor Cairns?" John informed the other two as they walked.

"This way." Adara cut him off, taking a sharp turn around the corner. The boys followed after her. John glanced around at all the homeless milling about.

"Nice….nice part of town." He muttered sarcastically. They came to another crossroads.

"Er, any time you wanna explain." John inquired.

"Homeless network, really indispensable." Sherlock elaborated, pausing just in front of the entrance down another tunnel with flickering lights on the other side.

"Homeless network?" he inquired.

"My eyes and ears all over the city."

"Oh, that's clever. So you scratch their backs and…."

"Yes, then I disinfect myself." Adara frowned in disapproval as she reached out to smack Sherlock on the chest.

"That was rude." She scolded sternly. Sherlock rolled his eyes, striding alongside her as they picked their way through down the ally. John and Sherlock used their torches to shine lights into the darker corners as they went.

"Now be careful, despite his height he can be very stealthy. If noticed he is a runner, at least until he has the advantage in the element of surprise." Adara advised quietly, her eyes scanning intently over the people they passed. John eyed her curiously.

"Why do you know that?" he inquired. Adara smirked wryly.

"Oh, just a guess. Psychologist, remember?" she pointed out. Sherlock shot her a glance, knowing differently. Adara held her hand up as she stares intently at a shadow rising up along the back side of the arches. The firelight from nearby barrels illuminates the figure. John, Sherlock, and Adara watch as the man's shadow continues to rise almost impossibly high along the wall.

"That's him." John gasps, spurring them all into action. The trio quickly ducked behind a wall, turning their lights off.

"Come on!" Sherlock ushered the other two behind him.

"What's he doing sleeping rough?" John whispered.

"Well, he had a very distinctive look. He has to hide somewhere where tongues won't wag…much." Sherlock surmised. John glanced down, his eyes widening as he patted his pockets.

"Oh shi…"

"What?" Sherlock questioned, pulling out John's pistol from his pocket.

"I wish I'd…" John muttered before stopping as Sherlock handed him the weapon.

"Don't mention it." Adara slid up beside Sherlock and peeked around the corner. The shadow stiffened up and bolted across the mouth of the tunnel, apparently having heard them. Sherlock, John, and Adara went running after him. As they turned the corner the man had slipped into a car that was waiting for him before speeding off into the night. Sherlock punched the air in frustration.

"No, no, no, no! It'll take us weeks to find him again." He lamented angrily.

"I doubt that, John had a lead." Adara countered. Sherlock frowned and turned to look over at the man in mild surprise.

"I have an idea on where he might be going." John agreed with a nod.

"What?"

"I told you, someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can't be that many Professor Cairns in the book. Come on." John waved them on, taking the lead for the first time.

...

...

At the planetarium, Professor Cairns searches through the recorded lectures while staring up at the stars on the ceiling that were being projected. As she searches, the hulking figure of Golem appears behind her, reaching forward and clamping his large hand over her mouth and nose. The woman yelps in alarm as she is dragged backwards. Her hand flails about and ends up sliding over the video controls, causing the video feed and lights to jump around randomly. Sherlock and John race into the theatre through a separate door. John pauses to aim his weapon at the large shadow while Sherlock shouts to get the assassin's attention.

"Golem!" the assassin grunts in surprise before taking the faster route and snapping the professor's neck. As he is about to leave a figure from behind slams into the giant man, taking him out at the knees. Adara grunts with effort as she uses her whole body to hold the man down, dodging the abnormally long limbs trying to hit her. She glanced over in the dark and spotted the prone woman lying on the ground next to them.

"Damn it." They had been too late. Her distraction cost her as Golem flipped her off his body in one heave. Sherlock and John try to move towards them and help, but their speed is hindered by the lights flashing in their eyes. Golem growled in annoyance as his gazed landed on her face, recognizing her. Adara smirked. As the man lunged, Adara blocked with her forearm and lifted up her heel to pull a large knife out of her boot. Now having a reason to keep his hands away from her Golem shifted back, watching her movement warily. Adara twisted the weapon in her hands to get a better grip on it now that she had a moment to recompose. The large man eyed her before reaching over to the switchboard. At the sudden onslaught of sounds and lights now coming from further back, the giant slunk into the shadows. Knowing her vulnerability, Adara joins the boys near the center of the auditorium. All of them glance around, looking for the assassin amid the rapid variation of light and dark.

"John!"

"I can't see him. I'll go around. I'll go." The smaller man assured, dashing off to one side. Sherlock and Adara remain close to one another, moving only a few feet apart as they continue to look for the man.

"Who is it this time, Dzundza? Who hired you?" Adara called out. From the shadows behind them Golem reached out and wraps his hand around Sherlock's face, while gripping his throat with the other. Sherlock instantly clawed at the hands on him, trying to get some air into his lungs and possibly signal Adara of his distress.

"Golem!" John shouted from the other side, having spotted the situation. Adara whipped around and glared at the scene, stalking closer with knife in hand. Her approach was halted when Golem tightened his grip with each step she took, a menacing grin on his face. John joined, standing beside her with his gun drawn.

"Let him go, or I will kill you." He warned evenly. The three remained at a standstill, watching for the first move. Sherlock whimpered in effort as he squirmed in the large man's hold. In a flash, Golem lashes out with his long leg, kicking the gun out of John's hand amid the lights to hide his attack. In the same moment Adara threw her knife. It swiftly slashed across the man's wrist, causing him to flinch and abruptly drop Sherlock to the floor. John lunged at the man but is quickly brushed aside and thrown towards Adara. The two went skidding across the stage floor.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had hastily stood up and held his arms up in a boxing stance, bouncing on his feet as he faced off against the giant. He swings a punch, but Golem grabbed it easily and swung his other arm to hit Sherlock heavily on the shoulder, sending him to the ground once more. Following his victim, Golem kneels down and clamps both hands over Sherlock's face in yet another attempt to suffocate the man. With a furious cry, Adara launches herself onto Golem's back, wrapping her arms around the man's neck and legs around his torso to keep her hold. The tall assassin growls in annoyance and swats at the woman on his back. Adara grits her teeth as she pulls one of her arms back, trying to choke the man out as he flails about. Golem spins around rapidly, clawing at any part he can reach as he tries to shake off the angry woman. Finally getting a hold of her shoulder, the assassin latches on and yanks her hard. Adara goes flying over the man's shoulder, hitting the floor with a loud thud. He stalks towards her and picks her up by her throat, lifting her above his head. Adara's hands latch onto his wrist, using her nails to dig in as much as she could in an effort to get him to release her. As her lips begin to turn blue, Sherlock barrels into the man from the side. Adara is dropped and coughs as air returns to her lungs.

Having enough of the trio, Golem picks up Sherlock and slings him across the stage where he knocks into John who was just standing back up. Glancing to his side, Sherlock picks up John's gun and aims it at the fleeing man. As the assassin runs through the back doors, Sherlock fires a couple shots. All of them miss as the man darts around the corner. The trio lay there on the floor, catching their breath. The only sound is from the screen behind them the narrator continues his spiel about exploding stars. Sherlock angrily slams his hand down on the floor. They had lost their only true lead. He looked up and spotted Adara on all fours, rubbing at her throat as she took ragged breaths.

"Are you alright?" he inquired, standing up and walking towards here. Adara waved him off.

"Fine enough, I just need a bit of time to get my breath back." She croaked with a weak grin. Sherlock frowned.

"Maybe we should go back to the flat and have John check you." he pointed out, helping her stand upright.

"No, he can check me later if he really wants to. We only have a few hours until the gallery opening and ultimately the end of the puzzle. We don't have time to waste." She insisted, taking a moment to check his face over for bruising while the light was on him. Sherlock frowned but knew she was right. They had to finish this first.

...

...

Early the next morning Sherlock stands in front of the Vermeer painting, furiously looking up information about it on his phone. He scans through everything from brush strokes and pigments to UV damage and Vermeer's influences. John, Lestrade, Adara, and Ms. Wenceslas stand behind him as he works.

"It's a fake. It has to be." Sherlock grumbles irritably.

"That painting has been subjected to every test known to science." Wenceslas insisted, setting her hands on her hips.

"Then it's a good fake." Adara pointed out. The woman shot her an annoyed glare. Sherlock whipped around.

"You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?" he accused vehemently. Ms. Wenceslas turned to the inspector in exasperation.

"Inspector, my time Is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself….. and your friends out?" As she finishes the pink phone finally rings. Sherlock hastily snatched it from his pocket and turned it to speaker.

"The painting is a fake." He answers. There is no response other than static.

"It's a fake. That's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed." Still nothing. Everyone in the room stared down at the device, waiting for something to happen.

"Oh, come on. Proving it's just the detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake! That's the answer. That's why they were killed." Sherlock insisted, frustrated at the lack of answer. When silence ensues he takes a moment to compose himself.

"Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?" he requests. After a beat, a voice answers.

"Ten…" a little boy's voice counts shakily over the speaker. Everyone instantly stiffens up at the sound. Sherlock spun back around to stare at the painting.

"It's a kid. Oh, god, it's a kid!" Lestrade laments.

"What did he say?" John inquired.

"Ten." Adara reminded calmly. Only her eyes betrayed how anxious the situation made her.

"Nine…" the boy's voice called out. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as they remained locked on the painting.

"It's a countdown. He's giving me time." He muttered.

"Jesus." Lestrade gasped.

"The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?"

"Eight…" Sherlock whipped around to face the owner with a venomous glare.

"This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!" he shouted. The woman flinched and opened her mouth but Adara cut her off.

"Don't, it has to be Sherlock." She countered, staring at the man intently. Sherlock pursed his lips, knowing she was right.

"She's right. It only works if I figure it out." he muttered, turning back to the painting. John began pacing, unable to remain still as the tension mounted.

"Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face."

"Six…."

"Come on." Sherlock growled in annoyance. He glanced over and paused, watching Adara stare at the artwork intently. Her eyes narrowed as she focused in on one section. Sherlock turned his head to look as well, his mind finding a track now that he knew it had something to do with the scene itself.

"Woodbridge knew…." Adara whispered just before her eyes lit up in realization when she spotted it.

"Five…."

"It's speeding up!" Lestrade alerted them to the change.

"Sherlock." John lamented urgently, his eyes glancing between the two. Adara and Sherlock locked eyes before she stared pointedly at one collection of white dots. She knew if she said anything aloud, it could cause the bomb to go off. It had to be Sherlock. Adara watched as Sherlock stared at the spots she had directed him to. His mouth dropped when he caught up with her.

"Oh!"

"Four…."

"In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" Sherlock grinned. All the pieces were coming together. Sherlock turned and shoved the pink phone into Adara's hands before pulling his own cell out and typing away.

"Three…."

"What's brilliant? What is?" John asked. Sherlock turned back to the group in delight.

"This is beautiful! I love this!" Adara's eyes shot to him in concern. That is certainly not what she wanted to hear.

"Two…."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade snapped. The detective lunged for the phone, holding his hand under Adara's as he brought his mouth to the speaker.

"The Van Buren Supernova!" he announced. Everyone held their breath as the line went silent.

"Please. Is somebody there? Somebody help me!" the little voice asked with a tremble. The room let out a collective sigh of relief. Sherlock took the phone and handed it to Lestrade.

"There you go. Go find out where he is and pick him up." Sherlock nodded with a small grin at Adara before pointing out the spots to the others.

"The Van Buren Supernova, so called. Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in 1858." He explained, holding up his phone so Ms. Wencelas could see it. With a triumphant look he stepped away, allowing the others to get a closer look.

"So how could it have been painted in the 1640s?" John mused. His cellphone dinged an alert.

"Oh." He muttered, digging out the device and reading the text.

**My patience is wearing thin.**

**-Mycroft Holmes- **

...

...

At Scotland Yard, Sherlock sat next to Ms. Wenceslas. Lestrade sat opposite them in his desk chair and Adara by the window. Sherlock's hands were templed under his chin as he thought.

"You know it's interesting. Bohemian stationary, an assassin named after a Prague legend, and you, Ms. Wenceslas. This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?" he questioned. She looked down with a remorseful frown but remained silent.

"What are we looking at Inspector?" he asks instead, talking to Lestrade.

"Well, um, criminal conspiracy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the very least. The murder of the old woman, all the people in that flats…."

"I didn't know anything about that! All those things! Please believe me." Ms. Wenceslas imputed in a panic. Adara shot Lestrade a small nod, indicating that the woman was telling the truth.

"I just wanted my share. The thirty million." She admitted. Ms. Wenceslas looked over at Sherlock, sighing as she lowered her head once more.

"I found a little old man in Argentina. Genius. I mean, really: brushwork immaculate, could fool anyone." Sherlock hummed pointedly. Adara cut her eyes over and shot him a distasteful look. He was getting too invested in all of this, the adrenaline was starting to go to his head.

"Well, nearly anyone. But I didn't know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine. It was just an idea….a spark which he blew into a flame." Ms. Wenceslas explained.

"Who?" Adara asked, her eyes narrowing sharply. The woman shook her head.

"I don't know." Lestrade laughed in disbelief. However, Adara continued to stare back at her silently. That was telling the truth….for the most part.

"It's true! I mean, it took a long time, but eventually I was put in touch with people…his people." Adara glanced over at Sherlock with a raised brow. It was a man as she had suspected. Sherlock pursed his lips, already knowing what she was thinking.

"You met these people?" Adara questioned.

"Well, there was never any real contact; just messages…..whispers." Sherlock leaned in closer, his face intense.

"And did those whispers have a name?" he inquired sternly. Ms. Wenceslas glanced around anxiously before nodding. She turned to Sherlock.

"Moriarty." The name caused both Adara and Sherlock to straighten up. This had been the second time that name had come up. But now they had more to connect to it. Sherlock leaned back in his chair, eyes glazing over in thought. His fingers templed in front of his lips as a grin spread across his face. Adara watched his expression in concern. After a moment of thought she pulled out her phone, checking the time as she stood up.

"Now that, that's settled. I have some errands to attend to." She explained before walking out of the office. Lestrade looked over at Sherlock curiously. He shrugged, not knowing any more than the inspector did. As Adara made her way out of the building, she dialed a number and held it up to her ear. She heard a click as the call connected.

"I have a favor to ask…."


End file.
